


When Rome's in Ruins

by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Leverage Fusion, Gen, Grifter Hunk, Hacker Pidge, Hitter Keith, Mastermind Shiro, Thief Lance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-08-24 05:07:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8358517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticReactions/pseuds/BossToaster
Summary: "The rich and powerful, they take what they want. We steal it back for you. Sometimes bad guys make the best good guys.We provide... Leverage."Galra Inc has been allowed to run free, with the money and influence to avoid any consequences.  But now there's new players on the field.  Leverage AU.Updates on Sundays.  Knowledge of Leverage is not needed to enjoy this fic.





	1. The Royal Job - Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> *cough* A quick note. The characters and situation depicted in this fic are dramatized and are in no way based on any actual situations that actually totally happened in my state. But if there was a hint of that, it would be political speech by a bitter citizen of that state and any insulted parties can suck it. Even though it's not, it's a theoretically look at an idea based on no one in particular. Yup.
> 
> Also, a HUGE thank you to Ashinan and Buttered-Onions who beta'd this for me, and are both amazing authors you should definitely check out if you haven't. They are fantastic and I'm so lucky to have them looking this over for me.

“Mr. Shirogane?”

Shiro paused, but didn’t pick his head up all the way just yet. Instead, he glanced up at the man who had spoken to him, glancing through his bangs. Bright red hair, well styled. Moneyed. Either he came from it or he was around it. A thick mustache, right out of a Arthur Conan Doyle novel, and a tasteful suit, if in a brighter shade of blue than usual. No tie, but something like a scarf instead, an even brighter color.

Frankly, Shiro had been approached by the technicolor version of butler from a silly old murder mystery movie.

Letting out his lungful of smoke, Shiro finally straightened and faced the man properly. Even in the alley Shiro had ducked into for a smoke break, the man still carried his umbrella. It was bright pink, and another layer of oddness. 

“Yes? That’s me.” He didn’t ask how the man knew his name, but the question was implied in the quirk of his brow and tilt of his head.

“Ah, good.” The man finally put down the hideous umbrella. He shook it, then closed it carefully. “Though, I admit, I wasn’t in much doubt. You look very much like your picture.”

Shiro frowned, eyeing the man. A picture of him? Why? “Must be a recent one,” he replied slowly. That just got him an easy nod. “And you are?”

“Coran,” he replied, still remarkably cheerful. He offered his hand - the one opposite Shiro’s remaining arm - without a trace of hesitation. Coran’s eyes stayed easy and steady on his face, not glancing at where his shirt suddenly folded in on itself.

Despite the situation, that earned him some points in Shiro’s book.

He took the hand and shook, keeping his own grip firm. Coran’s was no weaker. Interesting. “Nice to meet you. Or, I hope it is.”

That earned him a flash of a toothy smile. “I rather hope it will be. I’m here on behalf of my employer. She has an offer for you.”

Frowning, Shiro dropped his cigarette and crushed it underfoot. “Very mysterious.” He gave Coran a half smile, eyes going hard. “I’m not a fan of being contacted through proxies.”

“I suppose that’s understandable,” Coran replied slowly, posture straightening at the cool response. “However, I think you may wish to reconsider on this occasion. Besides, Mr. Shirogane, we both know you need something better to do than this. Odd jobs are all well and good to deal with your boredom, but without enough years in the military, I’m sure your pension wasn’t what you had hoped. Despite that you gave more than some servicemen ever will.” When Shiro froze and stared at him, Coran smiled back, cheerful again. “Leading missions overseas, taking part in experimental research... and that’s just what’s in your official file. We couldn’t access the rest.”

Drawing himself up, Shiro tensed and his hand twitched, wishing for something proper to defend himself with. He’d managed to adjust to only having one arm, but it gave him a serious disadvantage in a brawl, if it came to that. And anyone with the kind of resources to track him down and understand the blanks in his record... Shiro doubted they’d be an easy hit. Or be alone. 

“What is this about, exactly?” He tensed, ready to bolt, because when it came down to it, running was the better option. The only people he could think of who would want to track him down like this would be-

“No, I’m not with Galra,” Coran snapped, sounding so honestly insulted that Shiro paused, confused. “Quite the opposite, in fact. Mr. Shirogane, my employer wants your help, and I think you share more in common than you can know.” Tapping his bright pink umbrella against the concrete ground, Coran gave him a sudden, wide smile. “How would you like to get back at the company responsible for making you a prisoner of war?”

This was one of the most impulsive things Shiro had ever done. And that included the time he’d agreed to fly an experimental plane that had nearly shot him into the mesosphere. “I’m listening.”

***

Shiro started to regret coming along with this strange man as he was led to an office building. He’d allowed himself to be drawn in based mostly on temptation and his gut feeling, but this office was so clean and polished and fake that it set off all kinds of alarms in Shiro’s head. To him, this didn’t say ‘respectable company hiring discharged veterans for their dream revenge schemes’. It said ‘scam’. Possibly involving being attacked and having his pockets raided.

Well, Shiro hoped his attackers would appreciate his spare twenty dollars and his twice-stamped card for a free coffee. He’d gone out for a run, not to buy out a store.

And god, he was still tempted. That one line about Galra had drawn him along, because Shiro couldn’t keep pretending nothing had happened. He didn’t want them to get away with what they’d done to him.

The woman who greeted them didn’t seem the type to start throwing men around. Then again, Shiro had been fooled before. But with her dark skin and long, white hair (dyed, he assumed - that shade of white didn’t seem natural), she screamed ‘I have money’ rather than ‘I steal it’. She was also remarkably beautiful, though Shiro was a little busy watching her hands and keeping half an eye on Coran to appreciate it.

“Mr. Shirogane.” The woman had the same light accent as Coran, something approaching Australian. Shiro wasn’t convinced it was real, not yet. “I’m glad you could join us.”

Shiro offered a tense smile. “I hope I will be, too.”

She stuck out her hand, and for a moment, Shiro wondered if he was supposed to kiss it, like she was a princess. But the odd impulse faded quickly and he shook it instead. Her grip was just as strong as Coran’s. Also interesting. “I think you will be. My name is Allura and we have a common enemy. And, as the saying goes, I’m interested in using that to make friends.”

“I’m not sure that’s exactly how it works.” Shiro replied, fighting to keep his tone neutral instead of sarcastic. Allura gestured for him to take a seat in front of a desk, and he took it. The place was mildly opulent, like the reception area of a law firm Most of it looked antique. As Shiro glanced around, partly out of curiosity and partly out of nerves, he watched Coran take a seat as well, in a cushy chair on the other side of the room.

Well, at least he wasn’t hovering. Shiro didn’t take well to hovering.

Allura gave him a smile, looking suddenly like a diplomat. “You do have an impressive record, Mr. Shirogane. For someone so young, your leadership credentials are astonishing.”

“Thank you,” Shiro replied, a little slowly. “And as much as I appreciate an ego stroking, I’d really feel better if I knew what this was about.”

For a moment Allura wavered, and Shiro got the feeling he’d thrown her off her track. Like she’d had some grand speech he’d just punched his way through. Something about her made him want to apologize for it, but he shoved that impulse down. 

“I understand. Alright, yes. Here.” She pulled out a stack of files from the desk and handed them over without looking. So, she’d been prepared, then.

Brows up, Shiro started to page through, skimming quickly. Each was a file on one of four individuals. All were relatively young, and had a list of skills and accomplishments several pages long.

Those accomplishments were mostly police reports.

“What is this?” Shiro finally asked. He’d thought this was sketchy, but this... this wasn’t at all what he’d expected.

“These are the best of the best,” Allura replied. “At their own particular skills. Each has accomplished amazing things alone, but I think you’ll understand why I have some reservations about taking them on as a group.”

Shiro continued to stare. “They’re criminals.”

Brushing a lock of hair out of her face, Allura met Shiro’s gaze seriously. “Yes, they are. You have to understand, Mr. Shirogane, Galra Inc operates inside the law. Nothing they do is illegal. Or if it is, they’ll find a way to get out of it. I’m sure you’re familiar with that.”

_”Keep your head down. Don’t make waves. Just take what you can. Go rest. Don’t worry about it, Shiro.”_

Well, fuck you too, Iverson.

Shiro nodded. “Yes, I’m aware.”

“Galra Inc has the money and the power. The law will not stop them and so we have to pick up where it leaves off. For people like you, Mr. Shirogane, who trusted in a defense contract and paid the price with months as a prisoner of war, and with your arm. For people like my father, whose lives they ruined and pushed down until there was nothing left.” Allura took a deep breath, calming herself. Her hands pressed against the front of the desk, fingers digging in until the knuckles were white. “Galra needs to be stopped. And these are the people who have the skills to do it.” 

Taken aback by the force of her tone, Shiro slowly nodded. “But they’re still con men. That’s what you hired them for being. So what does that have to do with me? I’m not a thief or a hitman.”

“I don’t need that,” Allura replied slowly, voice soft. “What I need is someone to balance them. Someone who can understand their skills, to keep an eye on and reign them in when needed. Someone to lead them, and to be the eyes and mouth and brain of the operation. The head of it all. And so I need someone who is just as dedicated as me to keep this group focused on the main goal, even in the face of competing options. I need _you_ , Mr. Shirogane.”

Shiro leaned back in the chair, slowly absorbing the enormity of what he was being asked. “I - how are you even going to get these people?”

That earned him a sudden, toothy smile. It wasn’t a kind expression. 

“I already have, I believe. In fact, one of them came to me.” Shiro stared down at the files and wondered which one. “I need to know: are you interested in my offer?”

“You...” Shiro slowly smiled and leaned forward, resting his arm on his knee. “Let’s say I am. What can five - or seven - of us do against Galra Inc?”

Allura smiled back. “At first? Maybe not much. But Galra Inc isn’t just defense contractors. They have many branches and shells, offices all over the country in all sorts of fields. All of it the same cancer, of course, but... I’m sure we can cause them a few headaches. Right a few wrongs. We don’t need to go for the head straight away. We’ll work our way up.”

Unable to help it, Shiro laughed. “This is insane.”

“Probably,” Allura replied, unbothered. “But I think it’s better than the alternative. I am very, very sick of people like Zarkon and the heads of Galra Inc getting away with whatever they want. And I think you are too.”

“Yeah,” Shiro replied. “I think I am.”

Allura stood and offered him her hand. The one opposite his, just like Coran, just like during their introductions. This time, Shiro was less surprised, but not less pleased, and he shook it. 

“Well then. Welcome to Voltron.”

***

Shiro was given forty-eight hours with the files. Which was, he acknowledged, a big risk. He could have driven to the nearest law enforcement office and had enough evidence to burn Allura, Coran and their four associates in an instant.

Of course, the second he actually looked at the photos instead of scanned the police reports, that was off the table.

So the next two days were spent getting a crash course in crime. The kinds of cons most commonly run: lock picking, safe records, security systems, known hacking software. Shiro was familiar with much of it since, well, the government didn’t scrub files for people who had sparkling clean records. But Shiro had never fully immersed himself into that world. Not from that perspective. And he came out of it not sure he was better off for it.

But then Shiro would reach for his mug with the arm that wasn’t there, and he didn’t much care anymore.

When the time came, he arrived a few hours early at Voltron’s office, settled outside, then waited with a cell phone and a newspaper. Shiro had an advantage, since he knew who was coming. So, he wanted to see what they were like before they knew about him.

The first to arrive, barely after Shiro had been settled, was Pidge Gunderson. At first Shiro had snorted over the name, because all the names were fake, but you didn’t have to make it obvious. But then he’d hit the name ‘Hunk’ and officially gave up.

The hacker was small and wiry, and he walked into the building like he’d been the one to buy it. Pidge’s picture had bothered Shiro, because something about it rang familiar bells, and seeing him in person was like having a gong go off next to Shiro’s ear. But it was the attitude that kept it from clicking - scowls and tense lines. From the back, a name was on the tip of Shiro’s tongue, but one look at the expression and he’d lose it.

Lance and Hunk arrived together, already laughing and knocking shoulders. Behind his newspaper, Shiro’s brows jumped up. Did they know each other already? Or was that just part of who they were - a thief and a grifter, easily able to pick up on social cues and act like old friends.

But Shiro had read up on both, and on the tricks of the trade they used, and this looked honest. As far as he could tell. Hmm.

And last, just barely at the meet-up time, was Keith.

Pulling the newspaper up higher, as casually as he could, Shiro made sure no part of his face was visible. Keith didn’t seem like he’d notice, though. His eyes were on his feet and his hands were shoved so deeply into his jacket pockets that it looked like he might punch through the fabric.

Shiro gave it a minute after it sounded like Keith had walked inside before he dropped the newspaper. Then he sighed and leaned back against the brick building and stared up at what he could see of the sky. 

His life had gotten weird.

Above him, a window opened, and Lance stuck his head out and grinned down at him. “Hey! You coming in or what? It’s hot out there.” When Shiro’s brows rose, he laughed. “Next time? Don’t use a newspaper. It’s 2016, man, no one reads those anymore.” Then he ducked back inside, still laughing.

His life had gotten _very_ weird.

Shiro slipped inside and walked up to the Voltron office. This time, the reception area was empty, but the door to the hallway was wide open, and he could hear loud voices. He wandered down and stopped.

The conference room of the office had been upgraded into a high tech wonderland. One wall was almost covered in large monitors, set up to act as one screen. A corner had a server and various tech shoved into it, feeding into the rest of the equipment through wires. Pidge sat on the table itself, facing the screens and with a laptop in his lap. 

The table only had chairs on the side facing the screens and Lance and Hunk sat together at one end, laughing over something. Shiro suspected it might be him. Allura and Coran were settled professionally in the middle, next to two empty seats. Keith took up the end, farthest from everyone and closest to the door, though his back was to it.

Same old Keith.

“Apologies for making you wait,” Shiro said, by way of greeting. Everyone turned to face him, with the exception of Pidge. He was still typing away at his computer, too involved to react.

Mouth falling open, Keith stared at him. “Shiro?” It sounded like he wasn’t sure and Shiro shifted slightly. He looked a lot different these days. It was a shock to see in the mirror. The reminder wasn’t always fun, though. “You’re back in the States?”

“It’s a recent development. Relatively,” Shiro replied, taking a seat next to him. 

Lance’s face fell and then he scowled. “You already know this guy? I don’t like this. Sounds like favoritism.”

“I wasn’t aware,” Allura replied, her brows up. “However, I’m sure that won’t be the case. We’re all professionals here.”

As if to contradict her, Lance huffed and threw himself back dramatically into his chair.

Shiro’s brow rose. “And because that would be stupid,” he offered, leaning back. “My job is to know everyone’s strengths and weaknesses, and keep abilities and timeframes in mind. That fails immediately if I have an elevated opinion of one person and lowered of others.” Turning, he eyed Lance. “This isn’t my first time doing something like this. I had a team in Georgia in 2014, that-”

“Georgia?” Pidge’s asked, and he glanced behind him at the rest of them. “Your file never said you’d been in Georgia. In 2014 you were supposed to be in Iraq.”

Lips curling up, Shiro shrugged. “Oh, is that what my file says?” He tilted his head, still half-smiling. “My mistake.”

“Please, rest assured that I have picked all of you for your skills and that I don’t believe anyone would fail to meet my expectations,” Allura interjected, hands folded on the table. “If you have such a low opinion of my vetting, then I might need to rethink other members of this team.”

Lance’s brows jumped and he scowled, but his eyes were sharp as he watched. Shiro had the feeling his objections were more for show, poking for reactions rather than any real objection. Or, it was a real issue anyway. It was hard to know. 

“Alright, carry on. I want to know what it is I’m turning down,” Lance murmured, flapping a dismissive hand.

Eyes cool, Allura eyed him, then gestured towards Pidge. He nodded and stood, a clicker in hand, as images began to appear on screen. It was a company logo, along with several images of the same man. 

“This is the CEO of King Energy, Davis Oliver. King Energy services a decent portion of the Eastern Seaboard. In those parts, if you don’t choose to use them for your energy, you better be willing to shell out for either alternative energy or a whole lot of hamsters on wheels, ‘cause that’s about all you get.” Pidge clicked and the images changed. Now it showed documents and the Galra Inc logo next to King Energy’s. “What most people don’t know is that King Energy is partly owned by Galra Inc. And by partly owned, I mean when Galra says ‘jump’, King keeps the lights on so everyone can watch.”

Hunk’s lips twisted unhappily. “Wasn’t King Energy under federal investigation a while back? I don’t want to get mixed up in that.”

Shaking his head, Keith stared at the screens. “That was a couple of years ago. My guess is nothing stuck.”

“Right.” Pidge nodded to him, then gestured at the screen again. More documents appeared, with charts and graphs next to pictures of rivers and lakes. “King Energy got caught dumping chemical byproducts into local rivers. Aftermath of coal energy production. Once upon a time, the state would have detected that, but not anymore. Instead, it didn’t get noticed until the waters crossed state lines. That’s when the federal government caught on.”

Shiro frowned. “So they own someone locally?”

The images changed again, pictures of Davis Oliver next to a new man. “Oh, yeah. King Energy threw in quite a lot of support behind the current governor, Peter Rowe. When he got elected, suddenly there was a whole lot less money going to state environmental regulations, and some regulations got... loosened. Funny, that. Now that things have come to light, the state is suing, but let’s just say it’s not with a lot of haste. There’s been a lot of internal reshuffling, since King Energy donated land that became parks, yadda yadda. Trying to hide most of that relationship, I’d gather.”

“So what’s the angle then?” Lance asked Allura. “What’s he into? Cars, art, other rich people stuff?”

In response, Allura raised her brows and glanced at Shiro instead.

Eyes narrowing, Shiro considered. “From what I’ve read, the man’s fully tied to the company. Whatever interests they have, they come second to keeping King Energy on top.”

Hunk made a face at Lance. “That’s no fun. He could at least be into prostitutes or something, right?”

“Next time, I’ll keep prostitutes in mind. How’s your grifting, Lance?” Lance grinned back with lots of teeth and waggled his brows. Shiro snorted and nodded. “No, this is fine. We’ll hit him where it hurts and we’ll hit Galra Inc at the same time.” Tapping a finger against his lips, he smiled. “We’ll play a fiddle game.”

“Ooh, good little soldier boy knows some names,” Lance commented, brows up. “This should be _fun_.”

Shiro arched his brows and stared down at Lance until he quieted. “Wanna know what I wasn’t doing in Georgia?”

Lance considered, then shook his head. “You know, I’m good.” Keith snorted darkly and caught the pen that Lance threw at his head.

Watching the scene, Shiro eyed Allura and Coran, who shared a look and shrugged.

The best in their fields, huh? Ah, hell.


	2. Chapter Two

“So, okay, question,” Lance asked, scratching at his ear. Their communicators were discreet, nearly untraceable, and had some of the best sound on the market. All it took was the barest whisper. So said Pidge, at least. Shiro was willing to take his word for it. It felt weird, to have something settled on his molar like that, but the sound was amazing. 

“Ask away,” Shiro replied.

“Why isn’t someone else playing this role? Like, I know technology, but I can’t - shouldn’t Hunk being doing this? Or the hacker. Pidge, can you-”

“Nope,” Pidge replied cheerfully. “No can do. Gotta monitor. Lots of stuff to keep track of.”

Shiro leaned back against the wall of the van, standing just behind Pidge. Then he glanced back and made sure he was leaning on an actual wall and not more of the many, many pieces of technology that had been crammed into their vehicle. 

“Besides, we need Hunk to play his role. You’re more likely to be ignored,” Shiro reminded him.

Lance’s grumbling made it clear that was the problem. “What if he wants me to prove I can do this stuff?”

“How often does that actually happen?” Keith asked blandly. Then he paused. “Actually, I want a real answer to that.”

“Not very,” Hunk replied. “Once in a rare while. Lance, if you run into any problems, Pidge and I can talk you through it, okay? And in the meantime, make like we’re in D.C. again.” There was a slight, curious pause. “Oh, um, pretend he doesn’t speak much English.”

Lance’s answering sigh was nostalgic. “That was a good day. I think the Smithsonian still doesn’t know we have the -”

“Focusing please,” Shiro called. “Storytime after. The mark should be on the way down.”

Clicking on his keyboard, Pidge nodded. “He just used his card to get on the elevator.”

Show time.

On the security feed, Shiro watched over Pidge’s shoulder as Davis Oliver stepped out of the elevator, smoothing his tie in the process. On another monitor, Pidge muted his and Shiro’s mics. “This should be good.”

Shiro’s brows jumped at the dark tone. “Why’s that?”

Turning around, Pidge raised a brow. “Did you see that guy? I don’t know about him. Hunk stuttered through his coffee order this morning. How’s he supposed to fool anyone?”

“If you’ve seen my file, you’ve seen his,” Shiro replied. “He’s got an impressive record.”

Pidge snorted. “Yeah, well, I’ll believe it when I see it. So let’s see it.”

On screen, Hunk stepped forward. Lance trotted close behind him. “Ah, Mr. Oliver! Right on time.”

Oliver looked Hunk up and down, barely eyed Lance, then glanced behind him at security. Shiro tensed but Hunk just smiled like he hadn’t noticed. “I’m sorry, I’m here to meet someone, I don’t have time -”

“You are,” Hunk agreed smoothly, interrupting. “I’m Daniel Jackson.”

Pidge snickered, his mic still off.

Suddenly, the resemblance clicked. Shiro stared hard at the back of Pidge’s head then went back to watching the feed.

“Oh,” Oliver murmured, trying not to sound surprised and doing a bad job of it. He gave Hunk another once over, quicker this time. He probably had been expecting someone like himself - white, thinner, middle aged. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Mr. Jackson.” Oliver extended his hand still just a bit too slow but Hunk shook it strongly like he hadn’t noticed at all.

Hunk smiled but it was nothing like the easy ones he’d worn joking with Lance. This was a shark’s smile, the kind that had scented blood in the water. “It’s nice to meet you, too. Shall we head back up? This kind of business is best done in an office, I find.”

Oliver’s eyes flitted over to Lance again, eyeing him with a new, eager greed. “You’re exactly right. Come with me.” He turned and gestured for them to follow. Lance didn’t watch, head still swivelling around with wide-eyed fascination, and Hunk took hold of his arm and tugged until he started to walk.

“Okay,” Pidge murmured, brows up. “I think I take it all back.”

The ride up was jocular, filled with polite small talk as both seemed to virtually ignore Lance. Finally, they exited on the top floor and breezed into the office. “I admit, I’m very interested in what you have to say,” Oliver told them, settling at his desk and offering for them to take one as well. “Your meeting request was promising but vague.”

Hunk sat then he snapped his fingers, the action brisk and borderline annoyed. Lance took a few moments to notice then he obediently sat down, still glancing around wide-eyed.

Lance was good. It might have fooled Shiro had he not known and he had training to detect lies.

But Hunk was something different. Hunk had become some _one_ different.

“I have an offer for you,” Hunk replied easily, hands resting in his lap. “Or, actually, I believe you have an offer for me.”

Oliver’s brows went up looking halfway between intrigued and annoyed. “That remains to be seen.”

“Oh, I have little doubt. You have a problem, Mr. Oliver. Your competitors have the same one: energy transfer. You want to be everywhere, it’s such an expensive and bothersome effort. Some places, it’s not a problem, but others... well. Every hillbilly town with a streetlamp wants power and every time they have a problem with it, you need to send someone down and they need to investigate. That’s expensive, when it happens again and again, every day.”

Eyes narrowed, Oliver looked over Hunk then glanced again at Lance. “I’m not feeling inspired to offer you anything right now, Mr. Jackson.”

Hunk just smiled. “That’s because I haven’t offered anything yet. See, what the people here in the good old US of A lack is necessity. Yes, it’ll be expensive, and it’ll be a bother, but the lights will still turn on. But that’s not true everywhere, is it? It wasn’t true for Rafael here. Which is why he made this.” Hunk pulled a few folded papers out of his shirt pocket and slid it across the desk to Oliver. “Cheaper materials. Cheap enough for a young working man in a small village to get his hands on, eventually. Easy to build, too. Not durable but who cares about that at the price it costs to manufacture. You lose some every time a strong wind blows up from the Gulf anyway, I’m sure. Though, that might not be worth it if you need certain... permission and checks each time.” Hunk trailed off pointedly, head tilted.

“Oh, environmental and building checks won’t be an issue here, don’t worry.” Oliver’s tone dripped with satisfaction as he opened the papers, reading it over. After a moment, he leaned forward and picked up a pair of glasses off the desk. He poured over the test results and material costs for a solid minute, then looked up. 

“ _He_ made this?” He asked, looking Lance up and down.

And it was a show of skills that neither of them so much as reacted, though over the mics Shiro could hear the way Lance’s teeth had started to grind.

“Breathe,” Shiro reminded him calmly, “and when you can, lighten up on the molars. I don’t want to miss anything. But take a minute.”

After a few moments while Hunk continued to weave the story, Lance gave a tiny nod, and his grinding let up. He glanced away, looking around innocently again. When he spoke, it was so quiet his mic barely picked it up. “We get to keep the money after, right?” 

“You’ll be paid,” Shiro agreed easily. “Just a few more minutes now. We need enough time for-”

Keith’s microphone suddenly picked up. “Actually, gunna need a little while longer. This damn card doesn’t work!”

Freezing, Shiro and Pidge shared a look. Then Pidge flipped the feed showing Keith in the back hallways of King Energy’s headquarters, still wearing the janitor uniform he’d stolen. He tried to swipe it again but it the tiny light flashed a negative. 

“I can’t keep doing this,” Keith grumbled. “Somebody’s gonna notice all the failed swipes eventually and that’s assuming no one sees me on the security feeds.”

Pidge scoffed. “I have those on a loop already, calm your shit. They got a package in the mail yesterday with a wi-fi enabled phone. I’m already in the system. Let me just - tell me the model.” 

“Did you steal the right guard’s pass?” Lance hissed. It was a damn good thing that neither Oliver nor Hunk seemed to be paying him any mind. “I pointed him out, it should have been _easy_.”

On the screen, Keith’s shoulders jerked up angrily. “Yes, I did! Same guy! Sounds like you were wrong about who to steal from. He didn’t have access to the server room.” He paused, letting out a frustrated breath. “It’s a Glen-Reader. Model number 34B67104. What kind of shitty security doesn’t have that access, anyway?”

Lance didn’t respond and Shiro assumed it was because if he did, he wouldn’t be able to keep his volume low enough. “Enough. He probably didn’t have access because this is where we want to be. And this is why we have back-ups. Pidge, can you access the lock from here?” Shiro asked.

“No, doesn’t look like it. I see it, but I don’t see any override. I’m wiping the memory of the previous attempts now, before the security system picks it up.” Pidge huffed. “You have that phone I gave you?”

Keith paused and glanced at the camera. “Yeah? I have my own and we have the comms. I don’t get why.”

“Because you’re not a genius like me,” Pidge replied easily. “Take it out and set it on top of the lock and give me five.”

Lance sighed, quiet and annoyed. “We don’t have five. Hunk’s wrapping up.”

“That’s fine. We’ll distract him on the way down. Hunk, get him to walk you out.”

There was a slight pause. “Why,” Hunk drawled, though his tone was flattered. “Mr. Oliver, I think we see eye to eye.”

Unable to help it, Shiro’s lips quirked up. The emphasized word made Hunk sound a bit like he was doing his best Scarlett O’Hara. “Because the fiddle is only worth as much as someone else is willing to pay for it.”

Pulling open a small compartment in Pidge’s van, Shiro started to shift through the clothing. There were multiple outfits for everyone in there so finding his in the tight space was something of an issue. “I have to admit, I’m kind of scared of how much shit you managed to fit in this thing.”

“Don’t call Rover a thing,” Pidge replied, not looking up from the keyboard.

Brows up, Shiro glanced over. “Apologies.” Then he pulled out a suit and started to change.

***

Shiro had just stepped into the building when he heard Keith speak: “Alright, I’m in, and I plugged your thing into the bigger thing.”

There was a moment of silence before Pidge spoke. “I’m going to assume you put it that way to annoy me and therefore I’m going to ignore you.”

Keith didn’t answer, but Shiro could picture his smirk. Because yes, Keith knew very well what a USB drive and a server were, even ones as high-tech as the ones he’d been working with.

The easy chatter of Hunk and Oliver suddenly echoed in Shiro’s ear as they came out of the elevator. Hunk paused, reaching out to barely touch Oliver’s arm to stall him. “Ah. Seems we had less time than I thought.”

“What do you mean?” Oliver asked, following Hunk’s gaze. Shiro did his best to watch their reflections off the marbled wall rather than look at them directly. He folded his hand and the prosthetic he’d hastily strapped on in front of him and projected an air of polite disdain as he glanced around.

Hunk let out a little hum. “Well, you’re not the only interested party, of course. I may have mentioned something to a few contacts in Japan.”

Turning away again, Lance ducked his head. “Which name?”

“Sato for now,” Shiro murmured. “Do you have that identity ready, Pidge?”

Pidge snorted. “Of course. If you’d given me warning instead of just stripping in the van I could have beefed it up.”

“You’ve been busy,” Shiro murmured back. He let his eyes run over the three, eyes sharp and cold, before looking away again.

Oliver eyed Hunk, expression hardening but not rejected. Someone like Oliver would have done the same and he knew it, so it was hard to disrespect the move. “Have they given you a number?”

Pulling out a pen and another sheet of paper, Hunk wrote something down and showed it to Oliver. He froze, face going pale, but nodded as Hunk slid it back in his pocket. “That is what Mr. Sato is here to discuss.”

Glancing sideways at Hunk, Oliver frowned. “I need the evening. If you don’t sign anything tonight, I think I can double that for you.”

Hunk’s brows rose and he looked Oliver up and down, like he was sizing him up. “I’m going to need a lot better than ‘I think’.”

Lips twisting unhappily, Oliver nodded. “I can do better, but I need tonight.”

For a long moment, Hunk stared him down. “You can have it.”

Oliver nodded back, a tiny, unhappy jerk. “Who did you say he was again?”

Smirking, Hunk glanced at Shiro. “Ren Sato. I trust you can do your own research.” Then he jerked his head toward Lance. “Rafael.” Lance jumped, like he’d completely zoned out, then trotted after Hunk as he came up to Shiro. “Ah, Sato-san, _konnichiwa_.”

Nodding back his own greeting, Shiro let himself be led out, responding to Hunk’s cheerful Japanese in short, brusque phrases. The walked down the block before stopping the conversation. 

“Nice arm,” Lance said, eyeing the prosthetic.

Shiro’s lips curled up as he waved it at Lance. He’d worn gloves to disguise the porcelain color, but it had no movement other than side to side. “I thought a one-armed Japanese man would be too distinctive. The scar is bad enough. Keith, report.”

“I’m out, don’t worry.” Keith replied and Shiro could picture his eye roll. “I’m in the van. Want a pick-up?”

Shiro shook his head, sure Pidge was following them on street cameras. “No, I don’t want the van associated with us if I can help it. We’ll take a cab back and meet you at the hotel.”

“Traveling in style,” Lance muttered, shaking himself like staying that quiet and contained for so long was clinging to his skin. “I still think we can just walk with the money. Don’t know what we need the other two for. Or you, for that matter.”

Shiro eyed him, even as Pidge and Keith both snorted unhappily at the comment. 

“Please,” Pidge grumbled. “Like you added so much by standing around and blinking like a doe-eyed lamb.”

“I sold the lie!” Lance snapped back.

“Enough,” Shiro interrupted before it could escalate. “We needed everyone because it’s all well and good to get the money but I want more than that. They know exactly what they dumped. Even if they didn’t before, they do now what with the Federal investigation. They found out what was in the water so they knew what they were up against, in case anyone actually pinned them with something. We can hit them for a few million and Oliver will probably get the boot. But I want to hurt them more than that. I want to destroy their political power base and _burn_ everyone involved. 

“And that starts with this.”

Hunk and Lance shared a glance then looked back at him. “Alright, fine,” Lance replied, waving him off. Then he flagged down a taxi. “It was just a question, no need to get intense.”

Shrugging, Shiro shook off the hard set to his shoulders and arched a brow at Hunk. “So, you went five million?”

That earned a grin and Hunk hopped into the taxi. “Nah, the conversation went well. So I pushed a little.” Taking out the paper, he handed it to Shiro. In his small, neat handwriting, Hunk had written _10 million_.

Brows up, Shiro considered Hunk again, taking in his grin and the high five he and Lance shared. “Alright, so twenty million is hurting them pretty badly too.” He gave a thin, dark smile. “No reason we can’t do both.” He glanced out the window as he imagined the reactions at Galra when King Energy crumbled, sudden and violent.

“He’s doing the thing with his eyes again,” Lance muttered.

Shiro just shrugged.

***

“So, c’mon,” Keith called, sprawled out on the bed. He picked his head up to eye Pidge. “What’d you find?”

Pidge snorted and leaned back to stare right back. “Mostly company emails. There’s a lot of shit to go through here, even when I’ve got bots shifting for keywords. Chill. Right now, the most we’ve got is some extra traffic on the Sato profile.” 

Scowling, Keith huffed. “Chill. Okay. I guess we’ll all just wait on the con for you to finish, yeah? Cool, I’ve got time.”

“We’ve got all night,” Hunk soothed, waving the remote at them. Absently he continued to flip through the channels, ignoring Lance’s demands to go back to the soap opera he’d skipped past. “Give him a couple of hours at least.”

Pidge eyed him for a moment, then nodded. “Thanks.” Hunk just shrugged a shoulder, unconcerned.

Lance made a grab for the remote but Hunk held it easily out of his reach. “C’mon, man, that’s my show!”

“No way,” Hunk replied easily, hiding the remote behind his back. “You know I object to soap opera’s on principle. Nothing with acting worse than a high school production; I stand by that. It wounds my soul, Lance.”

Scowling, Lance tried again but he couldn’t get past Hunk’s shoulders without getting knocked back. “The acting is fine, you baby. It’s engaging and emotional, that’s what it’s supposed to be. And that’s the re-run from earlier, which I missed playing your golden goose. So let me have it!”

Hunk gaze remained unimpressed, before he fell backwards, trapping the remote under his back.

“Rude!”

Groaning, Keith scrubbed his hands over his face. “Really? I mean, _really_?”

Pidge glanced over the top of the laptop. “Do you do anything other than complain?”

“Do you do anything but snark? I’m the one who’ll be taking hits if anything happens. For this crap.” Keith stared at the ceiling, jaw set.

Finally putting down his papers, Shiro eyed them all, officially irritated. “ _Enough_. I’m tired of telling you all that. Can we all act like professional adults or do I have to tell you to play the Silent Game?”

Standing, Lance reached for his hoodie and pulled it on. “Nope, I’m out.” When Shiro’s head snapped toward him, he paused. “Not out of the - I mean, I’m going for a walk. I’m not one for long silences.” Keith snorted and Lance froze and scowled, but continued gamely on. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Anyone want anything while I’m out?”

“I’m good,” Hunk replied as Pidge gave an absent headshake. Shiro expected Lance to just nod and leave, but he glanced between Shiro and Keith, waiting for their answers.

Huh. Interesting.

Shiro shook his head. “Thank you, but I’m fine. You’re going for fast food?”

Brows up, Lance glanced down at himself then nodded. “Yeah.” He didn’t ask how Shiro knew, probably because he could pick up on the same cues: he was dressed in a ratty jacket and the ripped jeans he’d changed into once they got back to the hotel, so no place nice. The antsy, jittery motions said that he didn’t want to sit still, which knocked out any kind of sit down place.

“Then definitely no but thanks for the offer. Keith?”

Flopping back on the pillow, Keith shook his head and didn’t otherwise say anything. He was glaring at the ceiling, the whole line of him tense.

Okay, it was time for them to talk.

“Cool,” Lance replied, shrugging. “Later.” And with that he jogged out the door. Once he was safely out, Hunk retrieved the remote and went back to channel surfing and Pidge bent right back over the laptop.

Leaning back in his chair, Shiro watched Keith for a moment. “Can we talk?”

It took Keith a moment to realize Shiro meant him then he picked up his head. “Me?” For a second it looked like he’d refuse, then he sighed and got up. “Yeah, alright.”

“We’ll be back in a few,” Shiro told the others, then stood and opened the door, holding it for Keith. He got a dry look in response, then he let the door close. A quick check showed they were within range of a security camera. Shiro huffed and reached into his mouth, pulling Pidge’s microphone off his molar, then held it loosely in his hand as he led them around until he found a decently sized blind spot. 

Keith did the same then eyed him, brows up. “Okay? Talk. Talking would be nice.”

“First time I’ve heard you say that,” Shiro replied, leaning back against the wall.

Nose crinkling, Keith snorted. “Yeah, well, what would you know? It’s been how long now?”

Fair. Shiro inclined his head to the point. “This is worse than when you were at the Academy. I figured you’d be better at dealing with people than when you were 19.”

Keith sneered. “Screw you. I’m not the same kid you picked up and decided to dust off, Shiro. Don’t give me that crap. I’ve been through a lot since then.”

Clearly. Keith’s police record proved that easily enough. “Why didn’t you tell me what you were up to?”

“What, tell my military friend all the illegal things I’ve been hired to do? That sounds like fun. Hey, heads up, the reason I can’t hang out during your off time is because I have a merc job. Rain check?” Keith rolled his eyes. “Then again, if I’d known you were black ops I wouldn’t have worried so much. You’ve probably done more illegal shit than me. They don’t play with records unless you’re up to something. Tell me: what were you doing when we couldn’t hang out?”

Shiro stiffened at the point. “You might have known if you hadn’t _quit_ on me and dropped out.”

The words echoed in the hall and Shiro closed his eyes and leaned back again. Keith stared straight at him, eyes hooded under his bangs. “No, I wouldn't have.”

“Sorry. That was uncalled for.” Shiro finally opened his eyes. “What I was doing cost me a lot.” He gave a dry smile and ignored the way Keith’s eyes tracked down for a moment. “It’s a little raw. I wasn’t kidding when I said this all was a new development.” 

Keith stared, eyes rolling over Shiro’s most noticeable scar, then let out his breath in one long exhale. “What even happened? I just... fuck, Shiro, I find out you’re back and it’s for this stupid job that I wouldn’t have touched with a thirty foot pole if you didn’t turn out to be caught up in it. I was going to walk once I got the run down. And now you’ve barely said two sentences to me directly since we started and definitely nothing personal. Why am I suddenly a stranger to you? Are you that mad?”

“I...” Shiro swallowed. “It’s easier when I don’t think about it. And when we talked it was going to be about -” he gestured to his face and to the new scar slicing over his nose. “I was working with the Galra’s contracted help. They fucked up and I got caught because of it. They denied even being there and the military took their side. No one wanted to acknowledge where I was and what I was doing, so... I always knew, you know? They don’t hold your hand when they give you these kinds of jobs. I was going to get burned eventually. But I didn’t expect them to take someone else’s side over it, after everything.” 

He shrugged and looked away. “I was a prisoner of war for a couple of months. I passed SERE but... fuck, I’m bitter. I’m a coward about it, so I put off talking because I owed you an explanation but didn’t want to give it, especially after sitting on letting you know for weeks. If it makes you feel better, basically no one knows I’m back. Two people total. More, now, with you. So, no, I’m not mad. Not at you.” 

Keith brows jumped up. He didn’t look impressed but... he didn’t look disappointed, either. That meant a lot. Shiro hadn’t known how much. “To think all this time I thought you were running around in the desert.”

“There was plenty of desert and running around,” Shiro replied, shrugging one shoulder. “Just not exclusively.”

Watching him, Keith nodded slowly. “Okay.” And, because he was Keith, that seemed to be it. Shiro was grateful for it. “Guess I’m in then. I was in for you before, but... well, I’m sure as fuck not gonna let them get away with doing that to you.”

Shiro smiled, a faint upturn of lips. “Thanks. Speaking of: the hell, Keith? This is a job. I know you can be professional when you want to. You’re not usually this negative.”

Keith scowled and shrugged one shoulder. “I was annoyed. It’s been a long couple of days, alright? And they’re all...” He trailed off, crinkling his nose.

“They’re all the best at what they do,” Shiro replied. “The good ones tend to be weird. Look at you.”

Rolling his eyes, Keith shoved at Shiro’s chest. “Please, you are so much weirder than me.”

Shiro snorted. “I’ve seen your idea of fun. You’re weirder. I just taught you how to drive off cliffs; you though it was a nice weekend activity. Regardless, play nice, would you? I’m sick of telling you all to calm down and you’ve been the one starting it. It’s not like you.”

For a moment, Keith’s jaw worked and Shiro wasn’t sure he wasn’t going to go back on the defensive. But then he nodded. “Fine, fine. I won’t shove. But I’m not gonna shut up, either.”

“As long as you don’t start anything, we’re good. Or escalate it. Much.” Shiro shot him a grin, then paused as a noise caught his attention. After a moment, he realized it was coming from the mic he was muffling in his hand so he slipped it back onto his molar.

Pandemonium filled his ears.

“Lance!” Hunk yelled, frantic. “Lance, answer me!”

There was no response

“Fuck,” Pidge muttered and Shiro could just barely hear the sounds of typing. “No cameras in the area. Goddammit.”

“What happened?” Keith asked, biting down on his own mic to get it back in place.

Pidge growled. “Someone jumped Lance.”


	3. Chapter THree

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. They should have seen this coming. Twenty million was so much money, more than they’d planned out. With it being a Galra company, they didn’t see any problem in going above the law. They just - went after Lance. If they kidnapped him, that’s it, golden goose is theirs. If they killed him... well, no one else had that shiny new technology.

“Lance!” Hunk yelled again, such a bellow Shiro could hear it echo down the hall a second later. “C’mon, buddy, answer us!”

Shiro groaned and rubbed at his face. This had gone south so fast. Their first job and he’d slipped and let this happen. What had he been thinking, letting Lance go off alone? He started back to the room at a sprint, Keith quiet and pale behind him. “Pidge, do you have a tracker in the mics?”

“What do you take me for?” Pidge replied. “Of course I do. Tracking now. He’s still in the area he was jumped.”

Keith nodded and turned on his heel, taking off at a sprint. “I’m on it. Which way down the road?”

“West, but you’re not going to make it,” Pidge pointed out. Keith only snorted in response. “We’re better of waiting to see if they take him somewhere.”

Without slowing down, Keith burst out the side doors and headed toward the road. Shiro watched him go, then continued the hotel room instead. He could do more good there. 

“We don’t know it was Oliver yet. Might have just been a simple mugging.” Keith paused then continued more quietly, voice a dark rumble. “No one goes down on my watch.”

A pained groaned filled Shiro’s ears. Lance. So they hadn’t realized he was bugged or accidentally damaged it. Good. “Spanish,” Shiro reminded as he pushed open the door to their room and moved to watch over Pidge’s shoulders. “Remember to use Spanish, Lance.”

Hunk shot him a dark look. “Are you seriously still thinking about the con now?”

Closing his eyes, Shiro frowned. “No, I’m thinking if it’s Oliver, they’ll figure out this is a con and then they’ll kill him rather than kidnap him. So _use Spanish_.”

“ _Coño_ ,” Lance groaned in response. Shiro wasn’t sure that was proof he was listening or if he was just in pain, so he focused on watching the readout of Pidge’s GPS. Keith was making good time but they needed better than that. “ _What the hell kind of van is this? Ugly piece of shit._ ”

Unable to help it, Shiro snorted. “I’m sure they’ll take it under advisement. Anyone there seem to understand you?”

“ _These meathead hillbillies wouldn’t know a word of Spanish if it introduced itself while screwing their mothers,_ ” Lance informed him, then gave another pained groan.

Pidge sighed quietly. “Someone translate when I’m needed. For now I’ll just keep this up.”

“Ditto,” Keith replied, breath coming in slow pants. “Am I still on target?”

“Keep going,” Shiro replied. “Keith will be there in less than two. Anything identifiable about the van?”

“ _That I’m fucking in it._ ” Lance paused and when he spoke again, his voice had gotten pitchy from nerves. “ _And that it’s moving_.”

Shiro’s hand clenched against the table. “Shit. Keith, are you in visual range?”

“No, the road curves and there’s trees,” Keith replied. 

Lance’s dot started to move. Pidge’s breath caught. “Wait, they’re heading your way and - fuck, it’s fast. Get out of the road!”

Keith’s dot scrambled to the side off the map’s line for the road and Lance’s dot sped past. 

_Shit._

“Dark colored van. Black or deep blue. Maybe green? White logo I don’t recognize. Generic as hell. I’m on my way back.” Keith said. 

Glancing down, Shiro nodded. “Pidge, keep an eye on traffic cams on whatever route they take. Let’s see if we can get a photo and a license plate.”

“On it,” Pidge replied and turned on one of the extra monitors.

Nodding, Shiro let out a breath. “Injuries, Lance. How are you?”

“ _Oh, I feel great,_ ” Lance muttered. But before Shiro could press, he sighed. “ _I got hit upside the head. I think I was just stunned, not out, but possible concussion._ ”

Faintly, another voice spoke, too far away to pick out words but the tone was unmistakable. Lance shot back a question about their parentage. 

“Hey. Right now, you’re grifting. Your job is to lay low until we can get to you,” Shiro reminded, pitching his voice lower to soothe. “Just hang out for a bit.”

“ _That’s nice and all but what about when I get there?_ ” Lance muttered, in the same tone he’d used in Oliver’s office. “ _I can’t build any of that stuff we said. I barely even know what we were talking about._ ” 

Shiro let out a slow breath. “It’ll just be a stall. Pidge and Hunk can help you make it look good. Hold tight. We’re coming to get you.”

Lance let out a slow, shaky sounding breath and Shiro felt protectiveness well in him. Lance was his team and he was going to get him back.

Because that was what you were supposed to do. Because he’d put them there. Because it was the right thing to do. Because they were good people, if a little weird.

“ _Understood_ ,” Lance finally replied, sounding like he was trying to sound calm. “ _Keep me updated, okay?_ ”

“Of course, dude,” Hunk replied and the strain in his tone made Shiro look over and pause. His eyes were open wide and had a wild shine. “You’ll know everything we do.”

Tapping Pidge’s shoulder, Shiro motioned at his jaw then between himself and Hunk. After a moment, Pidge nodded in understanding and cut their mics. Then he reached over and gently shook Hunk’s shoulder. “Talk with me for a second.”

“Huh? Yeah, sure.” Hunk stood slowly like his limbs were too heavy, then walked with Shiro to the other side of the room. He’d prefer to do this in private like with Keith but he didn’t want anyone out of his sight if he could help it now. “What’s up?”

Shiro met Hunk’s eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Am I -?” Flinching, Hunk looked away, his hands twisting together anxiously. “I’m fine but Lance isn’t. I pushed. I should have known Oliver wasn’t going to like that but I was having so much fun twisting him up. Now Lance is the one paying for it.”

“Hey, no. It’s not your fault,” Shiro told him softly. “I mean it. If I’d been serious about the number I would have pushed it. None of us thought it would go this far. If we did, we would have told Oliver to order in.”

Hunk glanced up at him then away. “Yeah,” he murmured, though he didn’t sound very soothed.

“Lance is fine right now. A little sore, but he’s _fine_. You heard him. He’s feeling well enough to teach me a few new curse words.” Shiro reached up and clapped Hunk on the shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. “They’re not going to do anything to him other than what they’ve already done, not when they still think he has what we’re selling. We’ve got plenty of time.”

Hunk managed a weak smile, nodding. “Yeah. but I feel like an idiot for not realizing he had a plan. ‘Give me tonight’. I thought he had to go up a level to ask. If something happens to Lance -”

“We all thought that,” Shiro cut in. “No matter what, it’s not your fault. It was my call and it’s my job to think of these things, not yours. If you wanna blame someone, blame me, okay? Not yourself.”

Glancing at him, Hunk tilted his head. He stared for a long moment, taking deep breaths as he calmed himself. Then he let out a noise that was nearly a chuckle even if there was an element of hysteria to it. “You know, you’re really not what I was expecting.”

Shiro’s lips quirked up as he pulled his hand back. “You were expecting some humorless military grunt?”

“I was expecting you to be scary,” Hunk replied.

Snorting, Shiro shook his head. “Well, there hasn’t been a reason for me to be scary yet. Why, am I ruining your image of Black Ops?”

Hunk eyed him, the look nearly fond, and he didn’t blink at the mention of Black Ops. He’d probably known. “No, improving it.” Hunk waved to Pidge, gesturing at his mic. “Thanks, Shiro.”

“No problem. I mean it.” And then he stopped, because he could hear the slight feedback that meant their mics were back on.

Hunk nodded, then made his way back over to Pidge. Hunk was still too tense and stiff, especially compared to after the meeting with Oliver. Clearly, Shiro’s talk hadn’t really soothed him and Shiro hadn’t really expected it to. But Hunk looked calmer now and that was better for everyone, especially Lance.

Hunk was too sweet a guy to be left to sweat, no matter how long his criminal record was.

The door slammed open and Shiro jumped and whirled, heart in his throat and blinking away memories of sudden noises. But it was only Keith returning, if looking a bit ruffled. He had a scrape on his arm probably from where he’d had to dive out of the way of the van and clumps of grass in his hair. “They still moving?”

“Mhmm,” Pidge replied. “Down to the speed limit now. I guess they just wanted out of the area in case anyone saw.”

Keith sat down heavily next to Hunk, which was the closest he’d been near anyone this entire con. Brows up, Shiro took note, then turned to look at the screen and asked, “Where does it look like they’re heading?”

“Downtown,” Pidge replied. “I checked and the nearest airport is on a different route. They already passed a train station; more likely they’re heading for the warehouse district.”

Over the mics, Lance snorted quietly. “ _Amateurs_.”

“Mock their professional pride later,” Shiro advised. “Besides, maybe they just appreciate the classics.”

Pidge glanced up at him, eyes sharp and too knowing. “What you’re saying is that they’re old like you.”

“Yes,” Shiro agreed, just for the quiet snorts that earned him.

He couldn’t do much to change the situation right now, but he could make it a little easier for all of them. If everyone kept a cool head because of it, he’d done his job.

“ _I think they’re slowing_ ,” Lance murmured. “ _Feels like we’re pulling in somewhere_.”

Pidge zoomed in on the location. “Alright, we’ve got you. On our way.”

“Wait. Just Keith and me.” Shiro said. Hunk’s eyes went wide and he stood, but Shiro held up a hand. “We need the both of you paying attention to what Lance is doing. Neither of you has eyes there, so I need you paying attention to help him. Besides, only Hunk speaks enough Spanish.”

Pidge paused, one brow raised and glanced up and down at Hunk, probably evaluating his tech background. “Okay. That’s not a bad plan.”

Curiously, Hunk eyed Shiro, because the mechanical knowledge wasn’t in his records. But Shiro knew all about reading between the lines of official reports and there was no way he pulled off some of the things he did without a certain level of skill. The job with the Ferrari and the Senator alone...

“Alright,” Hunk allowed, sitting back down. “Get him back.”

Shiro nodded, gaze serious, then started for the door, Keith on his heels.

***

Lance kept up the quiet commentary as often as he could, letting them know how many guards he’d seen (“ _Five? Maybe? I dunno, I can’t keep track of all these meaty assholes. They all look like some frat douchebag’s dad._ ”), where he was in the building, what locks were on the room he was kept in, and what his station was like.

“There’s a computer?” Pidge asked, voice bright with interest.

From behind the wheel of their rented car, Shiro’s brows rose. Interesting.

“ _Yeah, kinda. Can’t get to it; it’s in a room I passed, not in here._ ” Lance responded. Hunk murmured the translation nearly as fast as he spoke. “ _Why?_ ”

Pidge let out a dark chuckle. “Because I didn’t get everything we were looking for off the server info. I mean, we got data, but nothing that’ll really hold up to a good lawyer: no proof of intent to hide; no proof of the governor’s involvement. Not what we really need.”

Dark satisfaction curled in Shiro’s chest like a second heartbeat. They were on the same page for what they really needed to take these assholes down. Good. His hand tightened on the wheel as much a physical reaction to the thought as he’d allow. Shiro would bet that if Lance was there to look, he’d call Shiro’s expression creepy. 

“You think it’ll be here?”

“It’s where I’d keep it,” Pidge agreed. “Why else have one in a creepy kidnapping warehouse?”

Hunk huffed. “We’ll worry about that when we need to. For now, Lance, start describing what’s in front of you so we know what you have to work with.”

As Lance listed, Keith nudged Shiro’s arm and mouthed ‘what’s the plan?’. He had the phone Pidge had given him out with the blueprint of the warehouse on it. It didn’t give them anything more than the bare layout, not even an idea where might be reinforced or what security they had, but it was better than nothing.

So Shiro shrugged. ‘Bust heads’, he mouthed back, focusing on the road.

That seemed to satisfy Keith, judging by how he leaned back in his seat. He glanced over again, taking Shiro in. “I’m surprised you still drive like you did before, what with the arm.”

There was silence over the mics. “Wow, dude,” Lance muttered, seeming to forget about speaking Spanish for the moment.

“What?” Keith asked. “He does.”

“That’s not really something you just say,” Hunk told him, each word slow and careful.

Shiro chuckled. “I know what he means don’t worry about it. And please, like I’m letting being down an arm stop me.”

Another moment of silence, this one shorter. “Would this have something to do with the fact that you’re going 90 down a 55 road?” Pidge asked.

Shiro hummed noncommittally.

“I’m impressed he can make those turns with one hand, is all,” Keith replied. “Has to be difficult, considering he doesn’t like brakes.”

“The point is to get there fast,” Shiro replied dryly. “I’m getting us there fast.”

Another long silence. “ _Can Pidge or Hunk come get me instead?_ ”

“Too late,” Shiro told him, cheerfully. “Actually, I have a question for you. Did anyone actually tell you to start building anything yet?”

Lance went quiet. “ _No, actually_.”

“It’s obvious though, isn’t it?” Pidge asked in response to Shiro rather than Lance. “Why else would he be kidnapped and dropped off with a bunch of supplies?”

“It’s only obvious if he knows who kidnapped him,” Keith murmured, brow furrowed. “Otherwise he just got dumped in a room with a bunch of wires.”

There was a very quiet clatter, as Lance probably dropped the tools he’d been holding.

“So, what, we just sit around and wait?” Hunk asked. 

Lance groaned, showing what he thought of that plan.

“We’ll be there shortly and so long as there are only a few guards, we should be fine,” Shiro said. “Time is good; we need to play catch-up. Pidge, you have Oliver’s cell phone info?”

Pidge hummed. “Yeah, I think so. Most of it should be on the servers in some form or another, and the rest I can spoof. Why?”

Grinning, Shiro turned onto his exit. “Well, it’s no fun playing chess when all the players aren’t on the board, is it?”


	4. Chapter Four

They didn’t go straight to the warehouse. Instead, Shiro spent a while driving around downtown, making large circles. They spotted the van quickly, then took their time scoping the place out, looking for whoever was around.

Mostly, it was to waste time as productively as possible, while Lance, Hunk and Pidge worked on the rest. As long as Lance wasn’t in direct danger, they had time.

“Okay, the schematics for the warehouse should be uploaded on the phone I gave you, Keith,” Pidge told them, while Hunk gave Lance a crash course in electrical engineering. “First room is an entryway. Unless they’ve moved, all the guards should probably be there. On the far wall, there’s a door to a hallway. That leads to a few rooms. The computer room is to the left, and Lance is all the way at the end.”

“Okay, I see it.,” Keith muttered, squinting down at the phone. Then he picked his head up and pointed out his window. “There. That’s gotta be him, Shiro.”

A small sedan, pure white and plain, pulled into the parking in front of the warehouse. Someone stepped out, wearing a long, heavy coat despite the humid heat of the early Southern fall. While the high collar hid their face, the jacket didn’t hide their legs, showing the fitted dress pants and shoes underneath. Within a few minutes, they were inside.

“Good,” Shiro replied, tone cheerful. He passed the building one last time, and turned past it, just a block away. Better than parking in front and advertising their arrival.

Lance sighed, but he was too busy listening to Pidge and Hunk’s careful instructions to offer any comment. 

“Okay, now we’re going to use those wires you had to connect those two ports,” Pidge told him, and Lance hummed his understanding as he worked. He’d reverted to non-verbals earlier in the training, apparently to make the work as fast and easy as possible.

“You can split some of the plastic around the insulated wires to cup around the back of it for amplification,” Hunk suggested. “Just use the soldering equipment to melt it on.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea. Do that.” There was a quiet noise, like Pidge had patted Hunk on the shoulder. “Good one.”

“Thanks.”

“Only good if you can do it the next two minutes,” Shiro reminded them.

There was a quiet hissing noise, like a spark catching and plastic burning. “ _Got it_ ,” Lance told them. “ _Finishing up now._ ”

Then there was a muffled noise as his mic was taken out.

Smiling, Shiro slid into a parking spot. “Okay, everyone get ready. Hunk, Pidge, that includes you.”

It took longer than he would have liked, and Shiro could hear Hunk’s nervous fidgeting the whole time, but then sound cut back in, louder this time.

“-told you already, I _didn’t call you_!” That was Oliver, voice low and ugly. They were just in time, it seemed.

“Oh, and your phone just texted me by itself?” Peter Rowe, the state governor, sneered right back. “I’m not sure what game you think you’re playing, but I want no part of it. I told you not to contact me anymore. It’s barely a month out from the election, you _idiot_. One I’m struggling with because of you.”

Oliver snorted. “Please, you got yourself into this trouble. I’m not responsible for the fact that no one likes you. Just go.”

A door opened, suddenly much louder. “Oh, no. I’m going to fix this mess before I get brought down with you. I told you that I don’t give a shit about what you do, so long as I’m not connected. Being present for a goddamn kidnapping is a connection, in case you were too stupid to pick up on that.” There was a snapping noise, and Lance gave an pissed-of grunt. “You. How much?”

“He doesn’t speak English,” Oliver told him, voice dripping with venom.

“Fine,” Rowe returned. “You. Denaro. How much? Mucho?”

From farther away, Oliver groaned. “You’re the idiot. He’s not getting out of here. You think I’m gunna let him get away to tell other people about this?”

Rowe was quiet. “Not while I’m here.”

“Then go.”

“I’m already here! I’m connected, and I’m not coming to some warehouse at fuck at night where a murder went down, a goddamn month before the election. Can you imagine the headlines? And I came in a state vehicle!”

Another pause. “Why the fuck did you do that?”

“You said to get here now,” Rowe snapped. “And I wasn’t going to take my personal vehicle.”

Lance cleared his throat. “Two million.”

Shiro bit back a sigh. Oh, Lance.

They both went quiet. Then Rowe snorted. “You heard the man. Two million for his silence. Pay up.”

“Are you kidding me? Fuck no. You think I give a shit about your election? I’m not paying two million for this little shit, not when you’re going to lose. What the fuck good are you to me anymore?”

Within seconds, a shouting match had broken out.

Which was Keith’s cue to kick open the door.

As loud and far away as they were, the entrance wasn’t audible. But it was noticeable to the goons standing by the door. And they only gaped for a moment before attacking.

Cracking his knuckles, Keith kicked, knocking one down at the ankle. He went down in a painful heap just as Keith ducked out of the way of another, then punched hard into his stomach. The second goon went down harder than the first, the gun on his holster falling out and skittering across the room from the force.

Bad holster, Shiro mused, as he put his foot over it and bent down. But he had overestimated the scene Keith was causing, because one of the goons tackled Shiro to the ground, sending the gun flying once again. Shiro twisted to catch himself, but his reflexes involved two arms, not one, and he hit hard on his right side.

Shiro glanced at Keith. He was surrounded by the two remaining guards, and the first one was already getting to his feet. No help from there.

Fine. Shiro hadn’t been playing patty-cake on his missions.

There was a click as the guard put his gun to Shiro’s temple, and wrapped his other hand around his neck, squeezing. “Who the fuck are you?” He asked.

Shiro didn’t hear it.

He heard _”Tell us what you know!_.” He saw the sand dusted floor, his own blood splattered beside him. He heard laughter as he was pushed out into a circle, surrounded by jeering faces. In front of him, another prisoner, too thin and eyes dead, covered in bruises and with their fists out. He saw money exchanging hands, heard the cheers. Saw _his_ face.

Then he head, “Shiro?”

Blinking, Shiro looked over. Keith was watching him, concern on his face. Following his gaze down, he saw he was kneeling on the goon that tackled him, unconscious and his face bloodied and swollen. The gun was several feet away and abandoned.

Shiro’s hand were splattered red.

“I... Sorry. I’m fine..” He stood and took a deep breath. “That’s all five?”

“Yeah, I tied up the other four, once they were out.” Keith looked him over, clearly still worried, but now wasn’t the time. He pulled a cord out of his pocket and tied up Shiro’s victim, then pulled him in a corner where he was out of line of sight. “C’mon, let’s keep moving”

As Shiro took a few deep breaths and followed Keith, he noticed the argument had trailed back off into a calmer discussion. Closing his eyes, he forced himself to focus.

Oliver sighed, low and irritated. “How about I pay you the two million to shut the fuck up when I kill him?”

Another beat, and Shiro heard Lance’s breathing get a little rougher. “We’re here,” Shiro told him softly, soothing as he’d been to Hunk earlier. As the conversation continued, they let thimself into the side room. “Just keep calm. They’re not going to hurt you now”

“I could be amenable to that,” Rowe agreed slowly. “I want it now. Just like that?”

“No, not just like that. I didn’t do all this to not what I came for.” The ‘obviously’ was just barely held off, and Oliver scoffed, even as he paused. There was a few seconds of scribbling, then the sound of a check being ripped out and handed over. “There, now you shut the fuck you. And you. Raul or whatever the fuck. Make your connectors.”

Lance didn’t respond for a long moment. “ _Why the hell makes you think I will?_ ” He asked, but his tone was scared and confused.

“Make!” Oliver snapped, clearly frustrated. “Build. I don’t know.”

Rowe sighed. “This is stupid.” Then there were footsteps. 

Lance cried out suddenly. “ _Let go of me, you stupid jackass!_ ” Then there was banging, as if someone was smacking their hands on the table. Or more accurately, having their hands smacked. “ _I get it, Jesus. I’ll pretend to make your stupid thing._ ”

“There,” Rowe grunted, and he stepped away again. “Looks like he got it this time.”

“Okay,” Shiro called, brows up. He leaned against the computer desk as the terminal continued to download on the USB Keith still had from earlier. “I think that’s enough. Pidge, Hunk, are you ready?”

“We’re ready,” Hunk replied.

Time to begin.


	5. Chapter 5

Shiro gave a toothy smile, eyes cold. “Keith? Distraction, if you could.”

In response, Keith nodded and fired off one of the downed guard’s guns, shooting across the hall into the other empty room.

“The fuck was that?” Rowe asked, voice suddenly loud and nervous.

Casually, Keith kicked the door to the hallway closed.

Oliver’s breath sounded shaky. “It was probably outside. A mugging or something.”

“That came from the hallway!” Rowe hissed back, barely a whisper. “Go check it out!”

“I don’t take orders from you,” Oliver snapped. But apparently he did, because a moment later the door opened. “What the hell are you all doing down there?” Oliver asked, tone dark. He started to stalk down the hall. “Paid a hell of a lot of money for these idiots...”

Keith started for the door again, but Shiro reached out, placing his hand on his shoulder to stop him. It earned him a scowl but Shiro just squeezed, wordlessly asking for trust.

After a moment, Oliver found the guards, and he started to curse loudly and vehemently.

“What’s going on?” Rowe asked, voice still shaky with nerves. After a moment, the door creaked again as he ventured out. “What’s going _on_ , here? What have you gotten me into now?”

Oliver’s breathing was heavy and ragged, loud enough to be heard in the room. “Someone’s here. We need to - quick, help me get the builder and then we need to get out.”

“Right,” Rowe replied. “You - right. Yeah.” 

Keith tried to jerk forward again, but Shiro held him fast. “Wait,” he breathed. 

They were the best in their field. And Lance was a thief. He specialized in getting into and out of hard to access places.

Which meant...

“He’s gone!” Rowe yelped. “Where could he have - the _fuck_?”

Oliver ran over, then groaned. “Screw it, I’m not waiting here. I’m out.” And with that, he bolted away.

“You! Don’t you fucking leave me! This is all your fault.” Rowe groaned, voice strangled, then followed after. Though he couldn’t see it, Shiro could imagine him running out to his car and fleeing. It was the only sensible thing to do.

Casually opening the door, Shiro stepped out. “Pidge, will you call in an anonymous tip that you heard gunfire here?”

“Sure,” Pidge replied easily. “Just let me finish up sending out this data.” There was a pause. “And finish writing a few things down. I think I can improve the mics a bit more, now. Thanks, Hunk.”

“No problem,” Hunk replied, voice warm. “They’re clever to begin with. Lance is okay, right?”

Shiro smiled. “Go ahead and unmute us on his mic, Pidge.” He opened the door, then glanced up. It wasn’t the natural human reaction, but Shiro knew Lance’s style.

And he was greeted with Lance, propped on the top of the doorframe and wedged into the corner where the wall met the ceiling, holding onto a ceiling grate to keep his balance. “Hey there,” he said. “All clear?”

“Yup. He’s good, Hunk.” Shiro stepped out of the way so Keith could walk in. And Lance’s eyes got bright with mischief, so he took a few steps away.

Lance shifted, bracing himself. “Hey, catch!” And with no other warning, he launched himself down into Keith’s arms.

Yelling, Keith shifted and managed to keep from sending them both crashing to the ground. “The hell!”

“You wanted me to just stay up there?” Lance demanded, one arm wrapped around Keith’s shoulders, making no attempt to get himself down. “And I wasn’t going to do that to Shiro. Be considerate of your teammates.”

Shiro rolled his eyes. “You got the checque?”

Laughing, Lance reached into his jacket pocket and waved it around. It was the 2 million dollar cheque that Oliver had paid Rowe, no doubt swiped when Rowe had tried to manhandle Lance. “Of course, what do you take me for? I wasn’t getting out of this without my money, dammit.”

“Awesome, now get off,” Keith grumbled.

Rather than obey, Lance leaned in more comfortably and waved the cheque under Keith’s nose. “Smell it. It smells like money. I like it.”

Keith glanced back at Shiro, clearly asking with his eyes if it was okay to throw Lance out a window. 

Rather than answer, Shiro just smiled and slipped the USB back into Keith’s pocket for him, then patted his hip “There. Now let’s get back to the hotel, shall we?”

“Ooh, that was cozy. How do you guys know each other again?”

That time, Keith really did drop Lance.

***

“New evidence has revived the federal case against King Energy today, supposedly linking current governor Paul Rowe...”

The reporter on the TV droned on, language careful to never actually implicate someone. It didn’t matter. The goal hadn’t been to get them arrested, not really, so Pidge had sent the information to Rowe’s political rival instead.

Then they’d cashed that cheque for Rowe, rather than get it themselves. Of course, having the cheque at all gave him a way of tracing Oliver’s accounts, which made for a nice payday as well. But the story worked so much better when there was something to back the inevitable investigation.

“...Governor Rowe released a statement condemning the actions of King Energy, but hasn’t been available for comment since the release of the audio...”

“This feels good,” Lance decided, sprawled comfortably over the bed.

Hunk frowned down at him, still holding a bag of ice to Lance’s head. “The near concussion?”

Flapping a hand, Lance snorted. “No. The good guy thing. We got paid and we screwed over someone who deserved it. No need to feel guilty. It’s relaxing.”

Nodding, Hunk smiled. “Yeah. It’s pretty good.” He glanced up at Keith and Shiro, shooting them a smile. “I think we’re in for another.”

“Maybe two,” Lance chimed in. “But I don’t do contracts. I’m out when I want to be out.”

“Of course,” Shiro replied, smiling back. Then he glanced around. “Hmm. How long ago did Pidge step out?”

Nose crinkled, Keith thought back. “About ten minutes? You don’t think...?”

Shiro shook his head and stood. “No, probably not. But I’m going to go check in anyway.”

Lance leaned his head back, hand cupped to his mouth. “Hunk,” he hissed, in a stage whisper. “Shiro’s a softie.”

“He is,” Hunk ‘whispered’ back. “He’s very comforting. He can stay.”

Lance nodded. “Not Keith, though. He’s very rude.”

Freezing, Keith scowled at him. “Rude? I caught you and I carried you to the damn car. Jumping on me was ‘rude’.”

Tapping his chin, Lance hummed. “When was this? I don’t remember it.”

“Might be the concussion,” Hunk offered diplomatically. 

Rolling his eyes, Shiro stepped out and ignored the playful bickering, intercut with Hunk’s ‘calming’ comments that only ever seemed to egg them on.

Down the hall, he spotted Pidge wedged into a corner, holding a phone.

“See, I ask how things are going so you’ll talk to me about your life, not for you to turn it on me. ...Fine, fine. Yeah, everything’s still good. Just got off another job. I’m on the east coast now. Stupid weather and stupid hours. I miss California and I don’t say that lightly.” Pausing for a response, Pidge snorted. “No way! You’d complain the whole flight. I know not to travel with you.” Stretching, Pidge glanced over, spotted Shiro, then froze. “I - oh, shoot, sorry. I have to go. One of my coworkers needs me. I’ll talk to you later.” Without waiting for a reply, Pidge hung up, then clutched at the phone like Shiro was going to take it away. “You need something?” 

Leaning on the wall opposite Pidge, Shiro smiled. “No, it had just been a bit. I figured I’d make sure we weren’t dealing with a second abduction.” When Pidge stayed tense and unhappy, Shiro inclined his head. “And I was going to tell you to say hi to your brother, if that was him.”

Pidge suddenly went utterly, unnaturally still, eyes almost fever bright. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Right. Career criminals. Shiro sighed. “I’m not going to hurt them. I would never.” Meeting Pidge’s gaze, he offered a smile. “After all, we’re doing this for the same reason, aren’t we?”

Slowly, Pidge relaxed, though not by much. “What do you -? How do you...?”

“Pidge, we both worked with Galra Inc. I met your father and brother when they worked for the military.” Shiro hesitated, then reached out to place his hand on Pidge’s shoulder. “I heard... well, I heard rumors, after. I talked to Matt once or twice since-” he rolled his right shoulder rather than specify. “Since I got back. I had heard some rumors and wanted to check in. But Matt won’t tell me anything, because... well, nondisclosure agreements, for one. But mostly because hell if he’d ever admit something is wrong.”

Pidge stared at him, shoulders slowly slumping. “You - Well. I guess I should have figured that out. I knew they were up to some classified stuff.”

“Why would you have? There’s lots of people who work where we used to.” Shiro squeezed again. “I promise you, I have no interest in hurting your family. Your father is one of the smartest, best men I’ve ever met, and Matt is someone I consider a friend. There’s not a lot of those. So, I promise you, Katie.”

Letting out a shaky breath, Pidge gave a jerky nod. “Yeah. I... I didn’t really think. It’s a reflex. I’ve hid it for so long. God, even they think I’m doing cyber security consulting. They have no idea. But if they think the money is clean, they don’t mind when I send some home to help.” Pidge glanced up at him, eyes dark with moisture, but not quite welling with tears. “Dad and Matt can’t get jobs anywhere in the field. Galra burned them so badly... no one will even take their calls. It ruined them completely. Dad tries to make apps, now, since he can do that on his own, but they don’t really catch on. And Matt does what he can.”

Shiro sighed and closed his eyes. It was merciful, considering what Galra Inc was capable of, but for Matt and Sam, it would have been worst case scenario. At least without resorting to threatening their family. “Shit. Which is why you found Allura.”

“Yeah,” Pidge replied. “And you. Your complaints were on a database I got to. And it just worked out. So you... I thought you’d get it. Which was why I sent your information to Allura.”

“I do. So I’ll help. They deserve it.”

Pidge offered another smile, then took a deep breath, getting back under control. “I- yeah. Okay.” Rather than pull away, they leaned forward into Shiro, just for a moment. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” He stepped back and gave Pidge a second. “Quick question. The Pidge thing... Is that a way of hiding or a choice?”

Head popping up, Pidge blinked, then went pink. “Oh. I mean, I don’t care. I don’t... ‘He’ for now, I think. I don’t... Not yet. But when I can, I do ‘she’. I’m not really - she is easiest, but I don’t care.”

“Fair enough,” Shiro replied. “Just let me know. And c’mon, I left Lance and Keith arguing. I don’t want to have to pay for damages to the room.”

Pidge crinkled her nose. “Fair enough.” As they walked, she glanced sideways at him, lips quirked up. “So, Boss, what’s next?”

“Boss?” Shiro crinkled his nose, but then considered. As he opened the door to the hotel he smiled. “Well, I have a few ideas.”


	6. The Bidding Job - 1

“You know,” Lance mused, starting around their usual room at the Voltron headquarters, as if he could see through the walls.  “This place has a ton of rooms we don’t use.  The whole floor and we only use two of them.”

Allura nodded, not looking up from her tablet.  “Yes.  We didn’t want to have to share the space and explain the lack of traffic.  We actually bought out the entire building, not just this floor.”

Perking, Lance turned to stare at her.  “Really?  You bought a whole building for this?”  Allura nodded, still not really paying attention.  “So, what are we gunna use the rest for?”

“For keeping us a secret,” Shiro replied blandly, not even looking over.  He leaned forward, chin resting on his palm, as he stared at the screens.  They were off now, as Pidge began to set up for their next briefing.  But he knew exactly what was going to be on them, and he was tense just imagining it.

Hunk nudged him, then leaned over to whisper to him.  “You’re doing the scary eyes thing, again.”

Glancing back over, Shiro gave a thin smile.  “Hmm.  Sorry.”  But then he went right back to staring.

Keith, meanwhile, eyed Lance.  “And what exactly do you think we’re going to do with that space, anyway?”

Beaming, Lance gestured around the table.  “If we have all this space, why are we paying rent?  We can have rooms here.”

There was an immediate waves of snorts and ‘hell no’s.  The exception was Pidge, who turned around to mutter, “You actually pay rent?”

Lance frowned.  “Why not?”

“First of all,” Hunk started.  “My place is my quiet time.  We’re not quiet at the best of times.  I want to actually sleep, sometimes.  When we’re home to be able to enjoy it.”

Keith held up a finger.  “And since you got here this morning, you’ve tried to pocket the nick-nacks in the front room, went for my wallet, stole at least five pens - those are just the ones I noticed, I know you’ve done more - and tried to mess with Pidge’s laptop.  No way am I living near you.”

Sliding closer, Lance pouted at Shiro.  “What about you?  It’d be all military and stuff. It’s a good idea, right?”

“No,” Shiro replied.  “It sucked then and it would suck now.”  He turned and eyed him, not bothering to soften to tense expression Hunk had been bothered by.  “Do you really want to live with me?”

Lance slowly deflated and leaned back.

Coran cleared his throat.  “Actually, having you all close and able to be monitored would make security easier.  I’m not against it.”

“My man!” Lance cried, holding up a hand for a high five.  Coran smacked it, hard enough that the noise cracked and Lance pulled back from a yelp.

Still eyeing him, Pidge narrowed her eyes.  “Why do you want to live in the same building as us?”

Lance gave a shining smile.  “Because we’re a team now?”  He didn’t manage to make it actually sincere, under the weight of so many stares.  “Because it would be fun?”

Narrowing his eyes, Keith pursed his lips.  “You want to go through our stuff.”

Scoffing, Lance flapped a hand.  “Nah.  I could do that anytime I wanted to.”  But his lips quirked up.  “But it would be easier if I could do it anytime I wanted to.”

Allura finally picked her head up.  “I’ll take it under consideration.  However, for now, this is supposed to be a place for business.”

“Anyway.  Pidge,” Shiro called, brows up.  “Are you ready?”

Pidge nodded, and then gave him a quick look.  But she didn’t ask, at least, and just started up the screens.  “This,” she introduced, “Is Trevor Sendak.  He’s one of the VPs at Galra Inc.”

Immediately, everyone sobered and straightened up.  Hunk shot Shiro another quick look, which he ignored for the moment.  He didn’t want to have to answer questions, not right now.

A number of pictures started up, this time of old guns and uniforms.  “Normally, we wouldn’t have picked him so early in this.  We were looking at others like King Energy.  But there’s a good opportunity, now.  Sendak is a well known collector of World War II memorabilia.  And there’s an auction that he’s known for attending each year, that’s coming up week after next.”

Keith eyed the pictures, head tilted.  “Okay.  So we’re using it because we’ll know where he is?”

“And because we’ll know what he wants,” Shiro replied, tapping his fingers on the table.  “And knowing what makes him tick is halfway to knowing how to destroy him.”

There was a moment of silence as they stared at him.  Then Pidge cleared her throat.  “Yes.  That.  And it’s an easy in.  The auction house is a place we know has a lot of expensive things that he wants to have.  Specifically, things like these.”  More pictures, of guns and a notepad.  “Sendak is particularly fond of Nazi weapons, or anything that belonged to Hitler.”

Hunk crinkled his nose.  “Of course he is.  What is with these guys and that stuff?”

Pidge only shrugged.  “Couldn’t tell you.  But he’ll definitely be after this.”  One last picture, of a crafted gun.  “This was a gun carried by one of Hitler’s personal bodyguards during the last part of the war, when he was in his bunker.  It’s promised to go for a good sum.  And there’s a couple of others like it.  But that’s not our plan, I don’t think.  Shiro said it wasn’t.”

Shiro smiled.  “No.  Not all of it.”  Then he sat back.  “And for the record, I’ll be leading this one from the sidelines.”

That earned him a round of looks.  “Why?” Lance asked.

“Because Sendak might recognize me,” Shiro told them, trying to keep his voice level.  He only mostly succeeded.  “He’s the commander who was in charge when I became a prisoner of war.”

Silence greeted him, this time longer.  Shiro ignored that too, still staring at the remaining picture of Sendak on screen.  He was smirking, his smile wide and easy as if he’d never done anything wrong, or at least he didn’t think so.  And he was wearing the uniform all members of the defense contract part of Galra wore on the field.  It was close to what he’d worn, back then, but wrong.  Without any of the attachments that made it worth it.

And now Shiro had the opportunity to get his own back.

From the corner of his eye, Shiro saw the others sharing worried looks.  But it was better to let them get it out of their systems now then to spring that on them mid-mission.

“Okay,” Keith said, voice quiet and eyes sharp.  “Let’s go get him, then.”

Shiro smiled, slow and toothy.  “Yeah.  Let’s go steal an auction house.”

***

Before they left, Allura rested a hand on Shiro’s shoulder.  “Can I speak with you a moment?”

Nodding, Shiro held back while the others filed out, the tilted his head at her.  “Yes?”

“Are you going to be alright?” She asked, each word slow like she was picking them carefully.  “This one is... close to home.  If you need an extra hand...”

Straightening up, Shiro met Allura’s eyes.  “You hired me to handle this.  I will.”

“There’s no shame in having emotions,” Allura replied quietly.  “Not for this.  Not from what I understand.”

Shaking his head, Shiro shrugged offer her hand, a bit more roughly than he’d meant to.  “I’ll be fine. I’ll stay in the back and keep an eye on everything.  But this should be simple enough.”

Allura watched him for a moment, then nodded and stepped back, giving him his space.  “Alright,” she finally allowed.  “Good luck.  And you can call on us if you need back-up.”

Relaxing slightly, Shiro gave her a smile.  “I’ll keep that in mind.  It’s always useful to have a couple more hands.  But for now, I think we have all the roles filled for my plan.”  He ducked his head, then let out a sigh.  “Thank you for checking in.  Sincerely.”  He might not sound happy, but he appreciated that she was making the attempt to reach out and keep things under control.

Allura smiled and nodded, if a bit awkwardly.  “Like I said, I understand, when it comes to this.  We might not have been able to find many details on you, but we found enough that I’d understand if you wanted space.”  She patted his arm.  “Go get him.”

“There was never any other option,” Shiro told her, his lips curling up.  With a last nod, he headed out.

They had a flight to catch this afternoon, after all, and that meant he had to pack.  And get out a suit.

Because he was going to stay out.  For most of it.  

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to be in the room when it all fucked Sendak over.

***

“Okay,” Pidge said, kicking her feet.  “Your interview is in an hour, looks like.”

Hunk nodded distractedly and ran a hand through his hair.  “Hmm.  I should clean up, then.”  He didn’t get up though, sprawled over the bed. “Okay, so I get hired as an auctioneer.  Which is going to suck, by the way.  I don’t talk that fast.”

“Yes, you do,” Keith told him.  “Just get nervous.”

Lance kicked his shins.  “Don’t be rude.”

Pulling his leg back, Keith scowled.  “But it’s true!”

Hunk’s brows rose, but he didn’t pick up his head.  “Anyway. So I do that.  That’s nice and all, but what does it give us?”

“Coverage of the area,” Shiro replied.  “Access to the backrooms.  Yes, Lance could break in, but if we need legitimacy or an excuse for someone to be there, we have it.  It helps.”  He turned to look at Keith. “Will you be able to complete your project?”

Keith frowned down at the pictures in his hands. “Yeah.  I think I can do that.” His nose crinkled.  “But I don’t like it.  Hitler paintings?”

Shiro shrugged.  “We need something that’ll attract Sendak’s attention more than the gun.  It’s exactly the sort of item that’ll cause waves in this auction, so it’s our best bet.  And it’s the best bet to get Sendak to bite.  He already owns a few from different auctions.”

Making a face, Lance stuck out his tongue.  “Seriously, hat’s with these creepy types and their Nazi crap?”

Shiro shrugged.  “Couldn’t tell you.”  He paused, then glanced at Lance. “I always figured it was a rich thing.”

That didn’t lessen Lance’s look.  “I’m rich!  I’m very rich!  And I don’t go around collecting Nazi guns, much less Hitler paintings.”

Shiro’s brows rose, and he gave the closest thing to a smile he’d had since they arrived.  “Actually.”

Freezing, Lance turned to look at him.  “No.  Oh, no.”

“Someone has to be the collection owner that sells the paintings, after all.”

“No!”  Lance fell backwards onto the bed, covering his face.  “No, I don’t want to.  Dammit!  Make Pidge do it.”

Pidge just smirked.  “Monitoring.  You’ll need someone to make them look legit.  Only I can do that.”

Lance flapped a hand.  “Keith, then!”

Pausing, Keith looked up.  Then he started to laugh.  “You want me to grift?”

“It’s a bad idea,” Shiro agreed.  “We’ll work on it, though.”  That made Keith’s face screw up, but he nodded reluctantly.  “For now, this is too important.  You’ll be discussing the collection with the auction owner too much, we can’t risk it with someone who isn’t comfortable in a role.”

Shoulders slumping, Lance seemed to give into the inevitable. But he did glance up at Shiro.  “Why not you?”

“Because,” Shiro replied.  “If I get the chance, I’m not sure I won’t try to kill Sendak.  Best for me to stay away.”  He stared at his laptop, shoulders tense and eyes bright as he imagined it.  Strangling him would be difficult with one hand, but so very satisfying.  Or he could just _hit_.

Pidge glanced at him.  “Okay, the scary thing is getting out of control.”

Shiro shrugged and didn’t reply, eyes staring unseeing at the screen.


	7. Chapter Two

The next day, the room they’d rented out was covered in print-outs of legitimate Hitler paintings. Keith sat in the middle of them, a canvas on the floor in front of him, and surrounded by his paints. His hair was pulled back in a splattered bandana, and he had flecks of white across his chin and nose like mismatched freckles. Everyone else was giving him careful berth, out of the range to avoid getting flecked themselves.

 Walking in, Shiro paused, brows up. “It’s strange to see this kind of counterfeiting from this perspective,” he mused, stepping carefully over paint splatters and pictures to sit in one of the chairs.

 That made Hunk glance up. “You saw it from the other side? When was this?”

 Shiro shrugged. “Oh, I was following a ring of some interesting people in Germany a few years ago.”

 Pausing, Pidge looked over. “I should really stop being surprised when your file was wrong. Was anything in it correct?”

 “Everything in my file was absolutely factually accurate,” Shiro replied, tone flat. “And if I ever say anything otherwise, I must be mistaken or confused.”

 That only made Pidge snort, and she bent back over her laptop. “Sure, okay. Whatever you say.”

 Keith made a satisfied noise and set his painting aside. Reaching up, he ran a hand through his hair, smearing green and brown through it. “This is hard.”

 Glancing around, Lance stood up on his chair, then jumped off of it, landing on the table. He walked passed the worst of the mess, then took another leap to stand behind Keith, leaning down so he could look. “Forgery? Yes. It tends to be.”

 “I mean this job in particular,” Keith replied, frowning. “It’s hard to copy his style well when his it wasn’t very consistent. How the hell are you supposed to check for authenticity?”

 Pidge raised a lazy hand. “I got that. I’m adding them to the official registries, and making a paper trail. It’ll check out if you just draw a stick figure.”

 Peering down, Hunk reached for one of the paintings. Keith smacked it away without looking, mumbling about wet paint. Rather than looking put out, Hunk just shrugged. “I think it’s weirder that you paint, actually.”

 Glancing up, Keith tilted his head. “I don’t.”

 Hunk stared at him, glanced up at Lance, and then looked down pointedly at the painting he’d nearly picked up.

 “I mean, I don’t paint myself. Or draw or anything. I’m just good at copying things. I’m better with handwriting.”

 Shiro hummed his agreement. “He forged the Major’s signature on, like, half a dozen official documents for the Academy. I watched.”

 Eyeing them both, Lance snorted. “And you both ended up here. Poetry.”

 Keith didn’t react to the bait, too busy bending over his work. “It’s weird, though. You can get the guy’s used tissues for an absurd number of thousands of dollars, but his paintings don’t even make half a million.” He itched his nose, leaving a stripe of pale blue behind. “Tells you a lot about his skill level. And it means I have to make a bunch of these. Which blows.”

 “At least you don’t have to sell them. I’m gunna be the guy who owns a bunch of Hitler paintings,” Lance grumbled.

 Rolling his eyes, Shiro tilted his head to watch him. “Would it help you to go look at the auction house’s security system?”

 Considering, Lance gave a jerky nod. “Yes,” he muttered, like a sulky child being offered candy.

 So Shiro waved a hand. “Go on, then. Just be out by Hunk’s interview, okay? They’ll be more observant when someone new is there.”

 Bouncing up to his feet, Lance beamed. “Awesome, I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” He paused, considering. “Make that three. Lunch, too.”

 “Remember to bring your mic, just in case,” Shiro called.

 Lance scoffed on his way out. “Yes, _Dad_.” He laughed at Shiro’s unhappy look, then ducked out.

 When he looked up, Shiro saw Pidge watching him, her eyes far too sharp. “No.”

 She glanced at Hunk, grinning, who smirked back.

 “No,” he repeated, more forcefully.

 Pidge only laughed. “Fine, fine. Ruin our fun.” She glanced down at Keith’s work, watching him carefully etch on details. “Needs more happy little trees.”

 Picking his head up, Keith frowned at her. Then he paused and glanced at the references. “Maybe one,” he allowed.

 Hunk gasped dramatically. “The happy little tree won’t have a friend?”

 Frowning, Keith glanced between them both, brow furrowed. “When he did a foreground tree, it was usually just one. Why would I do two?”

 “It’s a reference, Keith,” Shiro called, opening up the news app on his tablet.

 He blinked, then looked back down. “Oh. Okay. Ha.”

 After both had gasped dramatically about the lack of Bob Ross in Keith’s life, Pidge and Hunk set up Pidge’s many monitors to play an episode. Which was good, because it kept them calm and entertained and that kept Hunk from stressing about his upcoming interview.

 As Shiro sat, reading an online newspaper as one of his charges carefully painted with his tongue sticking out, and the other two enthusiastically watched TV, he realized he really was playing the dad.

 Ew.

 ***

 Hunk got the job without a problem. Between his ability to charm anyone he needed to and Pidge providing a killer background, they would have been fools not to hire him.

 So he was there when Lance marched in, a folder under his arm and dressed in a way that both screamed money and a lack of care about what that money went to. All expensive labels, wrinkled at the edges.

 Lance had complained about dressing ‘like a trust fund douche’ almost as much as playing someone who would own Hitler paintings.

 The owner of the auction house, one Mr. Miller, eyed Lance with serious distrust, which was fair. He mysteriously showed up with items that fit so nicely into the current crop, after all. And he was an actual thief, so well spotted.

 Breezing through the small talk with the air of someone who had better things to be doing, Lance flapped a hand at the man. “I have the paintings with me, if you’d like to take a look.”

 “I would, yes,” Miller confirmed, still watching him with shrewd, narrowed eyes. “Thank you.”

 Sighing like it was such a huge hassle, Lance snapped his fingers and pointed to Hunk. “You there, a hand?”

 Hunk frowned like he was affronted, and looked over at Miller, who sighed and waved him on. Following after, he glanced up once at the cameras, brows up for Shiro, Pidge and Keith, who were all watching, then helped Lance unload the carefully packed crates. “You better hope these are authentic, Mr. Haufman.” Hunk muttered to him, looking down his nose at Lance. “We have testing facilities onsite. More so than you would think, in fact.”

 Hmm. Without much worry, Shiro glanced over at Keith, who nodded. Yes, he’d done everything period accurate, from the paint to the material of the canvas. They’d pass all the necessary tests.

 “If there’s a problem, it’s with your attitude,” Lance told him, nose in the air. “Less talking, more carrying, that’s a good man.”

 Hunk made a face at Lance’s back as he carried one of the large crates back inside.

 Once back inside, Miller carefully opened up the boxes and examined the first painting. It was a watercolor of... some building. Shiro assumed it was a real place, but he had no frame of reference for where it might be. “A decent likeness,” Miller allowed. “Perhaps a touch heavy in places. Either very well kept, or made recently.” He eyed Lance critically over the top of his half-moon glasses.

 But Lance only smiled in response.

 It was Keith who gasped in outrage. “I’m not a damn novice,” he snarled darkly, leaning forward to glare at the image of Miller on Pidge’s laptop, as though if he stared hard enough, Miller would feel it and take it back.

 “Easy there,” Shiro soothed, patting Keith’s shoulder. “He has to hedge his bets. And he’s not wrong, anyway.”

 Keith bared his teeth in response, making Pidge snort.

 On screen, Lance shrugged. “My Uncle was the one who collected these. He was a bit obsessed with keeping them as carefully as possible.”

 Gaping, Pidge smacked her hand on the desk. “That bastard! That’s not the story!” Pulling a program up on one of the other monitors, Pidge started to type furiously. “I have to change all the damn trails now, you son of a bitch. Dammit, Lance.”

 He only smiled in response, and if Shiro didn’t know better, he would have thought he couldn’t hear Pidge’s dark muttering.

 Okay, note to self for the future: If Lance whines hard enough, prepare for low level rebellion.

 Meanwhile, Miller continued to go through the collection, piece by piece. There were ten total, from watercolors to pencil sketches, and one of the conditions would be selling them as a bundle. The auction house wasn’t likely to be happy about that - bulk purchases worked just the same in the realm of snooty rich art - but it was their best bet to make sure it all fell into Sendak’s hands.

 Whenever Sendak bid, he won. But they couldn’t guarantee he’d bet on all ten, not with so many other items up for auction.

 Finally, Miller began to pack them back off, then carefully removed his gloves. “Due to the rush nature of this, I’ll get to the testing as soon as possible. For now, I’d like to see your documents.”

 With a distracted, uncaring nod, Lance handed over the folder. “Of course. And when it comes back, what are we looking at for the House’s commission?”

 Miller eyed him, leaning back in his chair. His expression was shrewd again, but this time in a different way. Before had been the look of a historian searching for a fake. This was the look of a businessman. “Given the items in question, I’m willing to go down to a ten percent cut.”

 Brows up, Lance snorted at him. “That’s a ridiculous amount for these paintings. The amount of press coverage should be more than enough, if we’re being honest.”

 “Considering the security and care this will take, as well as transport and testing... no, that certainly will not be enough. Ten percent.” Miller leaned forward, arms on the table.

 Lance stared down his nose at him. “I won’t agree to do more than four percent.”

 “Eight,” Miller returned. “I simply cannot do lower than that. The testing on this will be too expensive. The cost of the labor alone...”

 That didn’t make Lance do more than roll his eyes. “I came to do you because of convenience for us both, not to be ripped off. You’ll be making over a hundred thousand off this no matter what, not even counting the prestige, so don’t try and convince me you’ll be hurting for the money.”

 Miller grit his teeth. “Five percent.”

 Lance eyed him one last time, then sighed. “Only because I don’t want the bother of going somewhere else,” he replied. “Five percent it is.”

 Nodding, Miller slumped back in his seat, still frowning. He’d no doubt been hoping someone who was merely selling his inheritance would be an easier sell. Still, he rested an eager hand on the crate, giving away his excitement for the purchase. “Alright, we’ll contact you after the testing is done.”

 “Of course. I look forward to speaking with you then.” Lance stood up, and with a final handshake, he swanned out, smirking to himself. As he walked out, he took a last glance back, caught on the front door’s security camera. “You know, I could totally clean them out after, too.”

 Shiro rolled his eyes. “No, Lance.”

 “C’mon, they’re profiting off Nazi shit. They’re basically asking for it.”

 “We’ll talk later,” Shiro allowed, mostly because it would satisfy him.

 Hunk hummed thoughtfully, as he was directed by Miller to take the paintings to the back. “Actually,” he muttered. “Lance is right. This kind of auction doesn’t happen every day. I know we had to do something that would catch Sendak’s attention, but this might cause more of a stir then we were hoping.”

 Shrugging, Shiro leaned back in his chair. “It’s barely a week before the auction. I doubt anyone is going to drop everything to do coverage of something like this.”

 ***

 Two days later, the auction house held an open viewing for prospective buyers, and the place was crawling with magazine journalists and photographers.

 “Told you,” Hunk muttered darkly into the mic, as he hovered toward the back of the crowd.

 On the other side of the room, Lance smiled through his teeth. “This is killing me. The security here is a joke. If these weren’t already fakes I’d be able to get them out in an hour, even with everyone here.”

 Shiro only groaned.


	8. Chapter Three

Stepping into the auction house, Shiro looked around curiously. He’d seen the pictures and the security cams, but this was the first time he’d been in the building himself.

 And, technically, this wasn’t breaking any promises, to Allura or anyone else. Shiro was just taking a look around before the con. It was the responsible thing to do, really.

 The fact that Sendak’s flight had landed three hours ago had nothing to do with anything.

 Shiro folded his arm behind his back as he walked, keeping his right side to the wall as he walked. It tended to attract too much notice, and he would rather blend in. He had the prosthetic on, but it only filled out the sleeve, and didn’t move right, not really.

 Because Shiro was busy watching the door instead of where he was going, he stepped right into someone’s back.

 “Oh, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t look- oh.” When the person turned around, it was Keith, a camera strapped around his neck and a baseball cap pulled low over his face. He was wearing a hoodie, and while it wasn’t pulled up over his head, it was pulled up over his neck like he didn’t want anyone to see his jaw.

 Frankly, he couldn’t look more suspicious if he tried. But at least it was a ‘college kid up to trouble’ look, despite the fact that Keith was rapidly approaching his 30s.

 Keith’s ears went pink, and he shifted from one foot to the other. “Sorry,” he muttered, a bit too loud and definitely not sincerely. “I should not have stopped in this walkway. Are you alright?”

 Keeping a straight face was more difficult than he’d thought. Shiro bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smirking. “No, I should have been paying attention to where I was going.” Brows up, he eyed Keith’s camera. “Came to get a closer look?”

 “Yes,” Keith replied, visibly through his teeth.

 As much fun as it would be to drag this out, Shiro instead gestured for him to go ahead. Keith went, head ducked in obvious relief at the end of the confrontation. He stepped forward, then peered through his camera, taking careful pictures of everything.

 It occurred to Shiro that this had nothing to do with the con, not really. Keith had just put a lot of effort into those forgeries. They weren’t just a point for point copy, after all, and he’d painstakingly made each one period accurate. The reason for it and the original painter might be disdainful, but he still did a good job.

 When Keith finally stepped away, clutching the camera and ignoring every other item up for auction, Shiro stepped forward and went back to his careful crowd watching.

 And then his heart stopped.

 Trevor Sendak was here.

 Despite being a large man, Sendak wouldn’t have stood out in a crowd to see him in a picture. His dark hair was slicked back, his posture perfect, his manner easy. He was comfortable, here, and could have blended in.

 But he didn’t. Because Sendak never wanted to. He walked into rooms like he was the rightful owner, and wore his suit like he had the uniform Shiro had known him in - casually but not quite fitting, like a wolf dressed as a dog.

 And it all came back in a rush.

 The cool looks and the way Sendak had looked down his nose at Shiro, made him aware he was an outsider, a visitor to Galra Inc and not part of them. How he’d sent him out with bad prep and worse intel, and how he’d been close enough that he _had_ to have hard Shiro’s pained cries.

 And he’d left him.

 The next time Shiro had seen him, Sendak was betting on him in a fight against another prisoner. He had only smirked when their eyes locked, and when Shiro had won, he’d collected his earnings and left without a second glance.

 Sendak had never seen Shiro, even when he was standing in front of him and looking directly in his eyes. And he wasn’t seeing him now, either.

 Well, fine. _Fine_. Shiro would make him see.

 Lost in a tense, heart-pounding haze, Shiro stepped forward, but a hand caught his arm. When he looked back, Keith was holding stubbornly onto his wrist. He calmly met Shiro’s gaze. “We need to go.”

 “No,” Shiro snapped, the word guttural and from somewhere deep in his chest.

 Keith only stared back, unmoved. “Yes. Now’s not the time. You’ll hurt him more this way. Now c’mon, let’s get out of here.”

 For a moment, Shiro seriously considered yanking his arm away from Keith and going after Sendak anyway. But, more than anything, the promise of hurting Sendak worse caught his attention. So he nodded, a jerky, barely there motion, and continued to watch Sendak with desperate eyes. He hadn’t even glanced their way.

 Seeing Shiro wasn’t walking on his own, Keith tugged on his arm and pulled him toward the back of the room. Spotting Hunk hovering around the edges of the crowd, he marched up to him. “My friend is sick. Can we use a back room for him?”

 The way Keith practically growled the words made it all the less sincere, and the couple Hunk had been chatting with gave him an odd look. But Hunk himself took one look at Shiro and nodded. “Of course, not a problem. Follow me.” He turned to the couple and gave them a quick smile. “It was lovely to speak with you both, but duty calls.” And with that, he lead them to the back.

 “What are you doing here?” Hunk asked, voice a low hiss. “You were both supposed to be with Pidge in Rover.”

 Keith shrugged. “I wanted pictures. I don’t know why Shiro is here.” Then he frowned at Hunk. “Sendak arrived.”

 Eyes wide, Hunk glanced at Shiro with new understanding. There was curiosity buried in there, too, a question of why Shiro was so wrecked.

 He didn’t want to tell them. He didn’t want to think about it.

 But Shiro didn’t get the second, had volunteered to come here and do this. The thoughts were unavoidable. He probably wasn’t going to get the first, either.

 Hunk frowned, going quiet for a moment, and then he nodded. “Pidge says if you can make it back up front, he’ll pick you up.”

 Taking a deep breath, Shiro shook his head. “No. I need a minute. I shouldn’t-”

 Right now, he shouldn’t be in a confined space with anyone, probably. Shiro was too twitchy, and too liable to do something reckless.

 “I’ll take the ride,” Keith murmured. When Hunk held open the door for him, he slipped through and kept hold of Shiro’s arm, like he was afraid if he let go that Shiro would disappear or fall.

 With a last nod, Hunk made to close the door, then paused to look at Shiro. “Take what time you need. But we want to help you, you know.” He glanced back into the building, making sure no one was watching, then he leaned forward again. “You’re a good guy, Shiro. You trust us with the con. I hope you’ll trust us to help with this, too.”

 Shiro just stared blandly back until Hunk sighed and finally closed the door behind him.

 When he turned back around, Keith was still staring, but he finally let go of Shiro’s arm. “If you don’t ride back with us, you should get a mic, just in case.”

 Shiro shook his head. “No. I don’t want to be seen getting things from the van right now. Too many people could notice it.” He scrubbed over his face. “I’ll be fine, and I have my cellphone. I’ll leave the GPS on, and I know Pidge already has it on the laptop. I’ll be okay. I just... I need air.”

 “Okay,” Keith replied, quiet. “If you’re not back in an hour I’m coming after you.”

 That resonated in a way that Shiro hadn’t known he needed. Picking his head up, he stared at Keith. “Thank you.” His tone was heavier than he’d meant it to sound, tinted by something deeper than gratitude.

Keith did see Shiro. All of them did. For whatever they got up to in the past, and whatever skills they had, this team saw him. And they wouldn’t leave him. If they heard him in pain, they came to help.

 Which meant that Shiro felt more at home with these thieves and con men then he’d felt in the military for years.

 “No problem,” Keith replied. He gave Shiro’s shoulder one last pat, and then he walked off, leaving Shiro to collect himself.

 After giving ten minutes for Keith to get away and to make sure they weren’t seen together anymore than they already had been, Shiro stepped out from the back area. He gave the auction house one last glance, and then he walked down the sidewalk, his single hand deeply pushed into his jacket pocket.

 When Shiro closed his eyes, he felt like he could feel the other arm tucked into a pocket as well, clenched tight with the tension running through him.

 So instead he opened his eyes back up and started to walk.

 ***

 By the time he got back to their hotel HQ, Hunk had gotten off his work and the rest of the team were all gathered together. The paint had been thankfully cleaned up, which Shiro appreciated - less evidence, just in case, best to be prepared - and it as clear they were talking.

 And from the way they all went quiet, he was also clear they were talking about him.

 Pulling off the jacket, Shiro watched them for a moment, then took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for my behavior, earlier.”

 “No need to apologize, dude,” Lance told him. He flapped an easy, loose hand, but the dismissive gesture wasn’t matched by the sharp, watchful look to his eyes. “I mean, you’re gunna need to apologize to Allura, but not to us. Nothing happened.”

 Shiro winced and straightened up. “I will.” But after the con. He didn’t want to jeopardize it now. And it was better to come back with a success if he was going to have to own up to a mistake. The military had taught him that, especially the seedier portions of it.

 That seemed to satisfy him, and Lance sprawled out over the pull-out couch, one leg lifted high enough that he could rest his heel on top of the back cushions. “Cool. Then we’re good. You good?”

 Before Shiro could answer, Pidge snorted. “That’s a dumb question.”

 Lance tilted his head. “Yeah, probably. But I figured I’d give him a chance to own up to it.”

 “I’m _fine_ ,” Shiro returned. “I wasn’t expecting him. When the actual con goes down, I won’t be anywhere near it.”

 That earned him a bland look from Pidge. “And the fact that Sendak’s flight plans were up on the laptop when you left means...?”

 Shiro scowled. “I thought I had time to get in and out.”

 Literally no one looked convinced. Damn all four of them for being perceptive. That’s what he got for working with career criminals.

 “Did you think about what I said?” Hunk asked, voice gentle, and it made Shiro wince again. “You don’t have to say anything specific. But it might help us if we at least understood what’s happening.”

 Taking a seat, Shiro sighed and leaned his head back, trying to decide. The probably deserved to know. At this point, he was pretty sure he trusted them to know.

 Actually, no, he didn’t. But that was no slight on them, so much as a reflection of himself. But he had jeopardized the mission, and they should understand why. So he nodded and closed his eyes.

 “Sendak isn’t just some desk jockey. He essentially runs the defense contractor side of Galra. The kind that deals with direct combat, anyway. R and D is Haggar. And he’s not the kind to just watch and plan. He likes to be part of the missions, or at least the ones he finds interesting.”

 Frowning, Lance twisted so he was sitting up, legs curled in front of him. “And you met him in the field, I’m guessing.”

 “Yeah.” Shiro took a deep breath. “When you’re... Black Ops isn’t like Special Forces. You’re not real. If something goes wrong, you fix it or you’re on your own. And that was fine, because it meant I was responsible for myself, and I was given good resources to work with. I met people I liked, I traveled the world, I did good when I couldn’t otherwise.” Shiro carefully didn’t look at Pidge, worried it would say too much. “But, then I was assigned to work with Galra contractors. And it was just frustrating, at first, because they never took anything seriously, and they acted like there was no consequences to anything they did. Then, they were responsible for getting me intel, and instead I walked into a trap.” Swallowing hard, Shiro closed his eyes. “Sendak was supposed to be nearby. I know he was there. But he didn’t help. And that’s how this happened.” He jerked his right shoulder, then gestured to his face.

 Dead silence greeting him. Then, jerkily, Keith stood and started to walk. At first, Shiro thought he was heading to the door, but instead he reached the wall and turned on his heel. Pacing instead, then. “I should have let you kill him.”

 “You were right. I was jeopardizing the con, which will do us more good in the long run.” Shiro watched him without moving his head, eyes tracking forth at the steady pace. He held as still as if he was being hypnotized. “It was the right call.”

 Watching him with dark, too-sincere eyes, Hunk frowned. “Are you going to be okay with this?”

 Shiro finally looked away from Keith and met Hunk’s eyes, his own gaze just slightly maniac. “We’re _not_ letting him get away when we’ve already got the trap set. And I’m going to be involved with _taking him down_.”

 Swallowing hard, Hunk held up his hands. “Okay! Okay. Sorry.”

 Slowly, Shiro managed to untense his shoulders, and he gave short, jerky nods. “Good.”

 The rest of the story sat heavily on Shiro’s chest. But it was a step too much, and he didn’t want them to know about the rest. He didn’t want them to look at him and see someone who had been turned into a fighting dog for entertainment. And Shiro wasn’t sure that he’d actually seen Sendak. He’d been out of his head with pain and dehydration, at that point, and for all he knew he’d hallucinated it.

 But Shiro didn’t think so. Not deep in his bones.

 Still, it wasn’t something he wanted to share. So Shiro left it there, his eyes heavily lidded and on the floor, facing the four of them and feeling oddly like he was on a stage and under a spotlight. Uncomfortably exposed and being watched. Entertainment again.

 At least, until Pidge stood and walked over to him. She put a hand on Shiro’s shoulder and bent forward, until they were face to face. “We’ll make sure he _burns_.”

 Meeting her eyes, Shiro rested his hand on hers and smiled back, with far too many teeth. “Yes, we will.”

 A moment later, Lance hopped to his feet and moved over as well, adding the weight of his hand to the growing tangle. Hunk was there a moment later, his hand large and warm, nearly covering the rest of theirs. And finally, Keith joined as well, his hand a little off to the side and nearly brushing Shiro’s neck.

 “We will,” Shiro repeated, chest heavy again, but this time, it was a good, solid weight.

 Then, he’d been on his own. He’d only been responsible for himself, and once in awhile a few others who were equally independent. Shiro’s friendships and connections had been from elsewhere, like the Holts or Keith back home.

 But this was what meant to have a team.

 And Shiro was going to keep them safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, quick note about this fic:
> 
> You'll be getting next Monday's update as usual, then we'll be skipping a week till Jan 1st for the next one. After that, there'll be one more normal update. I'm at a stopping point now where if I need to change the plot due to S2, I can do so without changing what's already been written out. So at that point, either I'll decide what I have is fine and keep going as usual, starting the week after, or I'll decide it needs reworking, and I'll update you then, probably on my Tumblr.
> 
> (Frankly, this story could use some buffs from canon, so I'm hoping I get some information I can work with. So this should be helpful)
> 
> See you then!


	9. Chapter Four

“Sold!  Lot 20 goes to card 82 for 25,000 dollars!”  Hunk announced, to general, polite applause.  Despite the air conditioning and the fall weather, the little auction house was sweltering, especially with so many people inside.

Shiro tried to convince himself it was a good reason to stay in the van with Pidge.

It didn’t help much.

He deeply, painfully wanted to be in the room when Sendak fell for their con.  He wanted to breathe the air of the room while his plan came together.

He shouldn’t.  Shiro had never promised he wouldn’t.  Just that he wouldn’t compromise the con.  And this time, if he wasn’t surprised, he wouldn’t.

“Next up, Lot 21,” Hunk announced.  “This collection of paintings done by Adolf Hitler himself.  Now, let’s start the bidding at...”

Immediately, several number fans went up, and the price started to rise quickly.  That didn’t worry Shiro, honestly.  Sendak had a reputation for always winning his bids, no matter what.

Still, his fingers were tapping a nervous, angry beat against the chair as he watched.  Pidge shot him an irritated look, but otherwise didn’t say anything.

Slowly, bidders started to fall off, scared away by the growing price tag.  They past 1 million, and lost about half right there.  But Sendak was still in, though not bidding every round.  Slowly the heavy hitters started to drop off, turned off by the determination of the others.

And then it was Sendak and two others, an older gentleman and a younger man.

None of them seemed interested in giving up.

“2 million,” the young man called, jumping up the bidding by at least 150,000 in one go.  Two rows behind him, Sendak made a face.  He was a slow bidder, only jumping by the required amount each time and unhurried, willing to wait anyone else out.  The sudden attempt to scare him off would have been irritating.

“2 million,” Hunk repeated back.  “Do we have 2 million and-”

The older man raised his fan.  “2 million, twenty thousand.” 

Sendak’s scowl grew.

“Anyone else starting to get unhappy about this?”  Lance muttered, from his seat in the front row.  “Sendak is cooling off.”

Shiro grimaced.  “He’s prideful, he doesn’t like to lose.  But neither do I.  Keith, where are you?”  

“Still out back where you put me,” Keith replied.  “Need me in?”

Something about the thought of putting Keith in that room pinged Shiro’s instincts.  No, Keith had been around Sendak enough, and Shiro wanted to limit familiar faces, just in case he’d noticed him before.  Keith hadn’t exactly blended well, though he had only been in a room with Sendak for a couple of minutes.  And Lance was out, since he already had a role to keep to.  “No, stay there.  I still want you covering us, and that’s more important.  And besides, this is a bit of grifting.  Kind of.”  He turned to face Pidge.  “Do you have a nice outfit, here?  Something that’ll fit in?”

“I think so,” Pidge replied.  “Why?”

Shiro shrugged.  “Only the comms really need monitoring right now.  And we could use a distraction for him.”  He tapped the screen when the younger man came up.

What he wanted dawned on her, and Pidge smiled.  “Yeah, actually.  I think I can do that.”  She stood and moved to the compartment with clothing, then groaned.  “Shit, my suit is still dirty.”  There was a pause, then a sigh.  “I’ll still do it.  I just... don’t freak out, okay?”

“Why would we freak out?” Keith asked.

Pidge huffed.  “Just don’t.”  She shot Shiro a look, and he politely looked at the screens instead while she changed, just as she had for him when he’d changed into his suit last con.

Then, clad in an expensive looking but modest sundress, Pidge brushed her hair back and pulled off her glasses, leaving them with Shiro.  Then she pulled on a pair of strappy sandals and stepped out.

Shiro counted off 60 seconds, while Hunk continued to draw the price up.  Then he heard Lance choke.  “Woah, <i>Pidge</i>?”

On screen, he could see her bland look.  “I told you not to.”

Lance sat stock still, eyes straight forward and posture too steely to be natural.  “You... is this, like, a clothes have no gender thing, or?”

“Later,” Pidge muttered.  Heading to the back, she paid for a glass of red wine with a smile, then made her way down the aisles of the seats.  On the way, she passed the younger man, just as he raised his fan yet again to bid.  It smacked into her arm, and she dropped the wine all over his expensive suit.  “Oh.  Oh no!  I am so sorry!”

Okay, Pidge was at least better than Keith, but not by much.  Noted.  But she didn’t need to sound sincere now, anyway.

The man jumped up, yanking off his jacket and cursing loudly enough that several of the older patrons shot him deeply disapproving looks.   Noticing he had the whole place’s attention, he froze, then shot Pidge a deeply venomous look.  She raised a hand to her mouth and gave a sheepish shrug.

Up on the podium, Hunk paused his auction and cleared his throat.  “Apologies, is everything alright down there?”

“Yes,” the man hissed, though he didn’t sound any more convincing that Pidge.  “Just fine.  Peachy.”  He glanced at his jacket, then at his fan.  With a disgusted snort, he threw it down and stalked away, grumbling.

Not alone in the spotlight, Pidge gave a last uncomfortable smile and hurried back the way she came.  Meanwhile, Hunk continued back up, if a bit slower than before.

“Is now later?” Lance asked.

Pidge sighed.  “It’s kind of a clothes have no gender thing, but more that I don’t really have a gender.  I tend to go by ‘she’, though.  ‘He’ is for cons, just as added security.”  She ran a hand through her hair and shrugged.  “But at this point it’s pretty silly to keep it up.  So.”

“Is it that surprising?” Keith asked, voice bone dry.  “It’s just Pidge in a dress.”

Lance huffed.  “You can’t see it, so shut up.  Hunk would agree with me.”  On stage, Hunk gave a tiny shake of his head, like he was getting his hair out of his face.  “Traitor!”

“Enough,” Shiro reminded them. “Focusing.”

Pidge settled on the back wall, watching with sharp eyes.  “Do you need me to get the other one?”

“No, he’s about out.”

Lance huffed.  “How do you know that?”

That just made Shiro laugh.  “He’s too aggressive, it’s different from how he started.  He’s trying to scare Sendak off.  And look, Sendak knows it.”  Indeed, the older gentleman was starting to look uncomfortable, or at least hot under the collar, but Sendak had barely reacted.

Sitting back in his seat, Shiro watched for another moment, as they continued to trade off.  They were fast approaching 3 million now, but even that was still a good deal.  Alone, those paintings would have gone for at least 4 million, if not more.  

But still, that was 3 million dollars for paintings Keith had made just a few weeks ago.  And that wasn’t even counting the second part of their plan.

And Pidge wasn’t here to stop him.

Standing up, Shiro bent by the clothing compartment as well, looking for something appropriate.  Then he froze, pulling his hand back.  He shouldn’t.  It was impulsive and stupid.

But..

It wouldn’t be for long.  Just until Sendak finished bidding.  When the trap had closed around him, Shiro would be happy, and he could leave with no one being the wiser.

He needed to see it with his own eyes.

Changed into his suit, Shiro stepped out with a toothy, vicious grin.

***

“And sold, for 3,250,000 dollars!”  Hunk announced, to another round of applause.  “If you would please come up for your information, that would be appreciated.”

A few rows down, the older gentleman closed his eyes in defeat, but joined in the clapping.  It was good Sendak had beaten him, Shiro mused. Judging from his reactions, he’d been bidding far past the point he should have.

Seriously, to be that rich that he could spend millions on weird, historical paintings.  Shiro guessed it was for the bragging rights, but who knew?

Sendak stood gracefully, ignoring the applause as if he were alone in the room.  As he made his way down the aisle, he glanced back.

And his eyes locked onto Shiro.

For a moment, time stopped as Shiro’s world hazed into red again.  But before he could collect himself, Sendak turned back around and kept walking to the backroom.

Letting out a slow gust of hair, Shiro tried to calm his heart.  Considering the lack of reaction, Shiro was fairly certain Sendak hadn’t recognized him at all.

And that stung, but it stung less than ruining the con.

But the moment had alerted the others that he was here, and Lance actually turned around to give him an incredulous look.  “The hell, dude?”

“Eyes forward,” Shiro snapped back, forceful enough that Lance listened automatically.  Good.

Leaning forward to see past the crowds, Pidge snorted at him.  “Hypocrite.  What are you doing in here?  We talked about this.”

Shiro huffed.  “I just wanted to watch.  I’m not involved.”

“You are if he recognized you,” Keith pointed out.  “Or if you snap again.”

“Dammit, you’re making me agree with Keith? Shiro!”

Growling, Shiro clenched his fists.  “He didn’t recognize me.  I doubt he would know me, even if I still looked the same.”

There was a silence, one that managed to sound pointedly disapproving.  “I’m gunna swap out,” Hunk muttered, barely moving his lips as he finished up Lot 22.  “Let’s get this done.  I want to get out of here, just in case.”

It was sensible, and Shiro nodded his agreement.  “Good call.”

As Hunk swapped out with the other auctioneer, gesturing to his throat, Shiro sighed.  “That means you’re up, Lance.  Go get ‘em.”

Lance gave a frustrated sigh, but he got up as well and disappeared into the backroom, through a different route than Sendak had taken.

Nodding to him, Pidge gestured toward the door with her head.  The look in her eyes said he shouldn’t argue, so he went along, hand deep in his jacket pocket.  Once they were out the door, she shot him another disapproving look, not needing to say a word.

Shiro had taken a stupid risk.  An incredibly stupid one.  

Scrubbing over his face, Shiro sighed.  “Look,” he called, voice addressing all of them.  “I apologize.  I shouldn’t have done that.  But let’s save kicking my ass till after.”

“Huh.  You know, if you and Keith fought, I think I could sell pay per view tickets.  Actually, you and Hunk.  I’d be rolling in it.”  Lance paused, grunting softly, then continued on as if the pause had never happened.  “Hey, you were due a stupid moment.  All that careful planning had to break down at some point.  If it was anywhere, this was understandable.  Just don’t do it again.  Well, again, again.  A different con.”

Keith murmured his agreement.  “I dunno if I could resist either.”

That was hardly a ringing endorsement of his impulse control, but Shiro would take the sympathy.

“What they said.  Including the pay per view.  I want a cut, Lance.”  That earned Hunk laughter, likely less from the joke and more at the idea of Lance sharing his earnings.  The he paused.  “Okay, I took over from the worker who was going to get Sendak’s info.  You need a stall?”

Lance hummed.  “I think we’re good.  Keith?”

“I’m fine.”

“Alright.  I’ll get this done fast, then.”  As Pidge and Shiro stepped back into Rover, the laptop showed Hunk stepping into a room with Sendak.  “Hello, Sir.  Have you finished your paperwork?”

Nodding, Sendak stood, slow and deliberate.  He held out the paperwork for Hunk to take, but when he reached out, Sendak shoved him against the wall, hand tight against his throat.  “How do you know Shirogane?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a reminder that there will be no new chapters until after the holiday season. Then the Jan 6th update will be the last until after Season 2, so I'll know if I need to make plot changes to fold in the new canon. This only applies to When Rome's in Ruins: All other fics will continue updating at their usual schedule.
> 
> Enjoy, and see you after the holiday season.


	10. Chapter Five

Shit.  Shit!

How did Sendak know about Hunk?

“Okay, Keith, I need you inside,” Shiro ordered, pacing back and forth inside the van.  “Remember that Sendak isn’t your usual goon.  He knows how to fight, and-”

“Shiro, wait,” Lance interrupted.  “Stop, give Hunk a chance.”

Shiro froze, then shook his head.  “No, it’s too dangerous.  Sendak is-”

In his ear, Hunk gave a terrified sob, and Shiro’s heart stopped.  Shit, he’d made a huge mistake, he should have never let Hunk get anywhere near Sendak, what had he been thinking?

But when Pidge tugged on Shiro’s jacket and he finally turned and looked, he saw Hunk’s face.

He wasn’t being Hunk right now.

“Wh-who...?  I don’t know!”  Hunk bucked and scratched at Sendak’s hand, eyes wide with open terror. And Shiro knew for a fact Hunk could have fought back more effectively.  

Lance let out a gusty breath that might have been a laugh another day.  “See?  He’s got it.  Trust in Hunk.”

“Should I go or not?” Keith asked, voice rough.

“Be on guard,” Shiro replied.  “But hold on for now.”  He hoped like hell he was making the right call now.  

While Sendak didn’t let Hunk go, he didn’t immediately try to choke him for the answer, either.  “I saw you with him,” Sendak replied, cold and unmoving, and if Shiro wasn’t aware of his MO personally, he would have thought he was unconvinced.

It was a reaction test. Sendak was looking for Hunk to break.

But he didn’t.

“I don’t know!” Hunk replied, voice cracking and desperate.  Shiro shivered to hear it, even if it wasn’t Hunk’s real tones.  “Please, I can’t- why are you doing this?”

Sendak bared his teeth, the motion downright animalistic.  “Fine.  I want the verification for these paintings.  Now.”

Finally, he let Hunk go, and he slumped down the wall, clutching at his throat.  His breath came out ragged and frightened.  Sendak stared down at him, expression full of contempt, but he seemed to have bought the lie.  When he stepped back, Hunk slowly stumbled to his feet and passed him the folder with the files, tears still bright in his eyes.

Sendak grimaced as he flipped through the pages, eyes narrowed in open contempt.  Then he snorted and shoved it back.  “This is nonsense.  All of it is easily faked.”

“We have some of the best testing in the-”

“Don’t try that on me.”  Sendak’s whole face twisted as he took the entire folder and ripped it in half.  “I smell a con when I see one.”

“Only because he’s so damn dirty himself,” Pidge grumbled back.  “Screw you, Asshole, my paper trail was perfect.”

Hunk sputtered and grabbed at the discarded papers.  “But, sir, I promise that we tested it thoroughly.  You can’t just-”

“I can’t what?” Sendak asked, voice suddenly very quiet.  “What can’t I do?”

Staring silently, Hunk shook his head.

With that, Sendak stood up and made his way to the door.  “I’ll do my own verification.”

“Everyone out,” Shiro ordered.

Lance groaned.  “What?  Shiro-”

“That’s an order.  We’ve been found.  I’m not losing anyone over this.”  Not over his own stupid mistake.  Shiro scrubbed over his face.  “I don’t want any more of you associated with this. I’m not letting you get burned more than we’ve already been.”

Grunting, Keith paused, then sigh.  “I’m almost done.  Two minutes.”

“You don’t have two minutes, he’s heading for that- Keith!”

But on screen, Keith ignored him, continuing to load up Sendak’s van.

And now it was too late, because Sendak was exiting the building.

And something clicked.

Sendak had known to corner Hunk because he’d been there during the viewing.  Shiro had thought he hadn’t noticed him, but that had been earlier.  Then Keith had been with him, and had taken him to see Hunk.

And Sendak knew exactly how bitter Shiro was.  Shiro had been silenced, but someone that connected knew that Shiro had been making waves and complaining, and that he’d want revenge.

They were all connected, now.  And Keith had admitted to knowing him.  So while Hunk could get out-

_ “Run,” _ Shiro barked.  “Keith, get out of there!”

But it was far too late.  Sendak was free with violence at the best of times, and that was before someone tried to con him for millions.  The second Keith turned enough that Sendak could see his face, he lunged forward, fist pulled back.

But Keith was certainly no stranger to fighting either.  He ducked down, avoiding Sendak’s first swipe, and then rolled back out of the way.  But Sendak gave him no time to collect himself, following after when Keith tried to duck behind the van.  He never let Keith get any distance between them, stepping after with all the relentlessness of a predator on the kill.

Eventually, Keith had nowhere to go but against the back wall of the auction house.  Sendak drew back for another punch, now that Keith couldn’t move anymore.  But when he struck, Keith grabbed hold of a trash can lid and held it between them like a shield.  It cracked under the force of it, but Keith was able to use the bulk to hide his leg coming up.  He kneed up, catching Sendak in the stomach, then kicked out with his heel and knocked him several feet back.

Back in the van, Lance and Hunk hurried in and shut the door behind them.  

Shiro clapped his hand on Pidge’s shoulder.  “Let’s go.”  Nodding, Pidge scrambled for the driver’s seat.

Sendak hit the ground hard, but didn’t stay down.  He kicked out and caught Keith at the ankles.  Keith landed hard and tried to pull away, but Sendak reached out and snagged his foot, dragging him closer with a painful lurch.

“Fuck, ow!”  Keith growled.  He twisted, pivoting on the leg Sendak held, and used the momentum to whirl his other foot around, hitting Sendak hard in the shoulder and forcing him to let go.  But the pain in his leg kept him from getting up right away, and Sendak got to his feet first, standing over Keith.

Just as Rover drove through the alley and into the back section.  When Sendak looked up, eyes wide with fury, Pidge turned on the high beams.

Sendak howled and covered his face, stumbling back from the light.  Keith used that distraction to limp into the passenger side door, and Pidge reversed Rover as fast as they could manage in the tiny space.

By the time Sendak could blink the spots out of his eyes, they had driven onto the road and torn off.

Keith let out a long breath and slumped back into the seat, eyes closed.  “Holy shit.”

Sticking his head between the seats, Shiro frowned and looked him over.  “You okay?  How’s the leg?”

“It’ll need ice, but I’m fine,” Keith replied, voice still breathless.

Behind Shiro, Lance watched the laptop.  “Oooh, he’s mad.”

Curious, Shiro stepped back with him and Hunk, Keith following a second later.  Pidge was still locked into the security feed, and they could see Sendak ripping the paintings apart.

“Oh, c’mon!” Keith cried, sounding much more upset than when he talked about Sendak attacking him.  “I worked hard on those!”

Shiro patted his back.  “It’s alright.  They were good work, but you have time to do better.”

Hunk rubbed his neck. “Sucks that we didn’t get the money.”  Shiro glanced over for no less than the third time since he’d gotten in the car. There’d probably be bruising, but he seemed alright.  Still, the sight made guilt prickle up Shiro’s arms and chest like he’d touched a live wire.  

But then Lance smiled at Keith, and Keith smiled back.  “Eh,” Lance replied.  “I think we’ll be okay.”

***

“Yes, officer,” Hunk confirmed into the phone, hand dramatically over his chest.  “I definitely saw him go there!  He attacked me, and then he suddenly ran off.  He said he wanted to test the paintings himself, but when I tried to tell him we already did that... well, he had already choked me.”  Pausing, Hunk closed his eyes, lips curled up.  “I didn’t know that about the rest of the security footage!  What happened to the back camera?  Oh, that’s so scary, that it’s all gone!”

Across the room, Pidge smirked.  She was curled around a bowl of cereal as she listened to a police scanner.  “Suspect in custody.  A check of his bags showed all the stolen artifacts, including bodyguard gun.”  The voice reported, tinny but clear.  “Be aware the suspect resisted arrest violently.  Poor Johnson is going to be down for at least a couple of days.  We want everyone on their guard.”

Lance sprawled out on the bed, stretching luxuriously.  “All in a good day’s work.  Even if we didn’t get the money, it was still fun.  Next time I want an actual challenge, though.  That auction house lock-up was way too easy.  I could have picked that lock in my sleep, and then a heat sensor?  Please.  The Mythbusters could fool those.  What a let-down.”

Snorting, Keith didn’t object.  “I’m just glad I had time to slip the artifacts into his suitcase before he got outside.  Wish we’d done it before loading.”  He shrugged, eyes closed and comfortable.  “What even was in that bag you gave me?”

“Let’s see... that bodyguard pistol everyone was excited about, Hitler’s letter opener, some silverware owned by one of the big four,” Shiro listed off, not looking up from his phone.  “Anything we wouldn’t notice the size or weight of.  All together worth a million and a half or so, if I’m not mistaken.  Taken before they could be auctioned off.  How unfortunate.”

But the joking tone was forced.  Shiro was still having trouble meeting their eyes.  Keith and Hunk had both been attacked and they’d lost the millions from Sendak, all because he had gotten angry, and let that cloud his better judgment.  It was his job to do better, to be above that, and he’d failed.

“So, we all know he’s getting out of this, right?” Pidge pointed out.  “He’s got a lot of money.  I really doubt he’s going to jail.”

With his head still ducked, Shiro shrugged.  “It’ll still make waves.  As long as a few places pick it up, it’s a hit.”  He sighed.  “But not as much as it could have been.  I’m sorry.”

A hand settled on his shoulder.  Shiro glanced up to see Keith there, frowning.  “You deserved to get your own back,” Keith told him.  “We understand.”

“Mind, the risks weren’t great.  But... It was the first time you’d seen him since, right?”  Pidge pinned him with her gaze, far too perceptive.  “We should have done better at watching your back.”

Shiro shook his head.  “That’s not your jobs.”

“The hell it’s not,” Lance replied, sitting up.  “Maybe I’m wrong, ‘cause I’ve only done this with Hunk, but last I checked, teams look out for each other.  That includes us helping you.”

Sighing, Shiro shook his head.  “I was picked to watch out for you.  If you can’t trust me to do that-”

“Who says we don’t?” Hunk replied, as he put down his phone.  “I don’t plan on walking.  You got us in, we did what we needed to, and we got out.  Mind, the money wouldn’t have been bad, but it wasn’t the goal.  You kept us on target, even when you had every reason to get distracted.”

Glancing around at all of them, Shiro clenched his remaining hand around the phone.  Something about this didn’t settle right, but he couldn’t pinpoint what.

Luckily, he didn’t need to.  That was what his team was for.  Keith gently shook his shoulder to get his full attention.  “This isn’t a military unit.  You’re not our commanding officer.  Even if you’re the one in charge, we’re a team.  Equals.  I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

...Oh.  That was true.  He hadn’t even noticed he was treating them like a task force.

Shiro nodded slowly.  “Okay.  I understand.” 

It was incredible that they still wanted something to do with him.  While Shiro had led a lot of teams and done a lot of missions, he’d never had people who stuck by him long-term.  No one he stayed attached to.  The exceptions were either back home, like Keith, or touchstones back on base, like the Holts. 

Nothing like this.  Not even close.

“Good,” Hunk replied.  “Now, if I’m not allowed to blame myself for pushing on the price, neither are you.  If you’re that upset, you owe us drinks at the airport.”

Shiro cracked a smile.  “That I can do.”

Cheering, Lance fell back on the bed.  “Hell, yes.  Round on Shiro.  Gunna get something fruity and hella expensive.”

“Like you?” Pidge replied dryly, and Lance gasped in dramatic offense.

While his team bickered comfortably, Shiro settled back.  Then, quietly, he raised his phone just as Pidge climbed onto the bed to try and steal one of the pillows to hit Lance with, and Keith settled back against the headboard, and Hunk stepped in to mediate.

Shiro took a picture of them like that, then put his phone down and smiled.

Moments like this didn’t last.  Life didn’t stay this nice, especially for Shiro.  Something always came to shatter what he found comfortable.

But Shiro was going to fight to keep this as long as he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the end until Season 2, because I don't want to get deeper in and find out there was material I need to work with on the 20th.
> 
> See you then!

**Author's Note:**

> Interested in more? Follow me at Bosstoaster.tumblr.com!


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